i can't do it alone
by summertimesadness
Summary: AU: A reporter for a newspaper in New York, Finn Hudson is assigned to do a full-fledged report on Broadway's latest Tony nominee, Rachel Berry. However, through his investigation, he realizes that all that glitters isn't gold.
1. The Interview

She can't remember why she's meeting him for dinner, but she's been told that it's important, so she has to look nice. Initially, she scoffs at this idea, because Rachel always looks nice. She coifs every inch of herself so that she always looks like a cut out of a magazine. Every opportunity is a photo opportunity, she tells herself.

Rachel eventually decides on a pale pink number that matches her nails, deciding that it will look the nicest with how she's already dressed herself for the day. She looks nice in pink, it compliments her. It's one of the reasons why it's her favorite color, anyway.

Her manager tells her over the phone that she's supposed to be nice to this man that wants to go out to dinner with her, but she knows that she's going to. She's nice to everyone. It just takes time sometimes for people to chip past her 'take no prisoners' attitude to see that she's really a nice person. And she is, really. She's not a pain to be around. Rachel knows of people that are much worse than people expect her to be. Some of the people that she works with are horribly ruthless, and she knows it. Rachel promises that she'll never stoop down to their level, no matter what the circumstances.

She's going to have a great conversation with whoever this man is at dinner tonight, she can feel it. She's Rachel Barbra Berry, she can do whatever she wants. She's gone from dance classes in Columbus, Ohio to having her name in lights above Times Square. She's accomplished so much already, why not this as well?

Maybe it's a producer. Maybe he wants her for the next best movie musical being made. She would bring a certain finesse to Hollywood, really.

:.:.:

He makes his living criticizing other people. Sometimes it's for the better and sometimes it's for the worse, but it's normally for the worse. He goes to performances and criticizes them, finding each little flaw laid out before him on stage for him to point out.

Theatre's never been his favorite thing to review, but he's found his career in it. According to the editor of the newspaper, he's not just good – he's great. He's got a way with words that describes the performances of all people, good and bad. Finn never would have guessed that he would have a knack for words, but here he is, calling out actors and actresses for their flubbed lines and calling musicals 'Tony worthy' or 'next to hideous.'

He enjoys all of the perks that come along with his job. He goes to the nicest events in the entertainment industry – even the award ceremonies. He keeps a collection of the things he's obtained from the swag bags from the Grammys, Emmys, Tonys. He's never been to the Oscars, but he wants to go someday.

He enjoys meeting all of the people that manage their way through the rat race of performing – but the girls seem to come in multitudinous amounts. They're better than the girls back home. These girls aren't hot for a small town, they're New York City hot. The girls that take their time to make sure their eyebrows are perfectly threaded, that their legs are equally spray tanned on both sides. They're gorgeous; walking down the street in designer clothes that Finn wouldn't be able to afford even if he tried.

He isn't suited for the New York City girls. They're stylish and go through boys like they're pieces of fashion. If they're so last season, they end up in the back of a Filene's Basement.

Finn's never been in an actual relationship. There was the one in college, but it was nothing special. He prefers not to even think of the entire situation, and looks forward to his future – if he has one.

He wants a nice girl. A girl he can wrap his arms all the way around, a girl that can help him make all of his favorite meals when he gets stuck in the Betty Crocker recipe book. It wouldn't just be her doing all of the work, though. He would massage her feet after a long day of work and make sure that he kept their bathroom clean. He would solemnly swear that he wouldn't leave the seat up as long as he had a girl to share the bathroom with.

He has an interview with a girl tonight. He knows it's strictly business, but Finn feels that he can make a connection if he wants to. Besides, in his job, he only has to know the person who's performance he's reviewing for a few weeks. Once those weeks are up, the girl could be his.

He's seen her picture in the paper multiple times. In fact, he sees it every day, much like the rest of the city. It's the face of the girl who graces the large advertisement for Chicago, the one musical Finn's yet to actually see.

She's hell to look at in the picture that looms over Times Square. Her legs look like they go on for miles, her eyes managing to smolder through his, even on a marquee picture. She's any guy's dream, right there in a bustier and fishnets. It should be illegal to hang a picture that's so sexy in a place where millions of people can see it.

Black and white suits her, he notes.

:.:.:

The light of the restaurant suits her as well, it seems. Finn spots the girl from across the way, his hormones causing him to push past the maître and towards the table she's sitting at for them.

She begins with pleasantries and he just laughs nervously, wiping his hands off on his pants. He takes stock of her dress, hearing his heart beat in his ears.

She looks absolutely wonderful in pink.

"Rachel Berry," she greets him, extending her hand out across the table. "You must be…"

"F-Finn Hudson," he stammers, accepting her hand and giving it a firm shake. She has to have some of the softest skin he's ever felt. Her hands are so small as well, at least in comparison to his. Finn's sure that he has the largest, most abnormal hands in the entire world.

"You're here from the Times?"

'The Journal," he corrects her with a small smile. "We're not the Times, but we're almost there. I'm sure you've had your name in papers before."

A small, somewhat haughty smile crosses Rachel's face. Of course she's had her name in the papers. She's Rachel Berry, for God's sake.

"Well, maybe you'll work for the Times someday. Then you can interview me for them, too."

The two shared a small burst of laughter together, Finn smiling wider than she was. She had a lovely smile, almost putting him in a trance. It's no wonder she was slowly becoming Broadway's next best thing. Rachel Berry will easily share her name with the likes of Bebe Neuwirth, Bernadette Peters, Sutton Foster. She's a star on the rise and he's lucky enough to be sitting in front of her, asking her questions about her life and the like.

"Maybe," he says, looking down at his notepad. He thinks that he need to buy a new laptop he can bring with him everywhere and so he doesn't look like he's stuck in the stone age, but there's something he likes about being able to pull a pencil from behind his ear and take dutiful notes like he's a reporter from long ago. They were the classy ones, after all.

"You look stunning," he tells her, and she blushes. Finn's learned over time what the difference is between telling someone that 'they are stunning' versus 'they look stunning.' The first option is more permanent, like she'll always be that way. The second is like saying that she looks stunning on this particular day that he's run into her, not like she was born to be a beautiful woman.

He's sure she is, though.

Rachel doesn't notice his choice of words.

"Thank you," she adds in with a grin. "You don't look too bad yourself." Her eyes fall on his notepad, watching his hands as he pulls his pencil out from the metallic coil that binds the paper together and takes it between his fingers, folding the cover away from the paper and beginning to write something. He has rather large hands, she notices.

His handwriting is chicken scratch, otherwise she would be able to tell herself what he was writing. She wonders if he has a hard time reading his own handwriting when he goes back to review his notes from the evening, her mind straying. What if he misreads something about her and it's printed? A lie about her for all of New York to see?

"So… Rachel Berry…" He jots something down on the paper, his hand pausing. "That's your real name, right? Just for the record and all. Sometimes actors are really quiet about what their real name is and what their stage name is."

"No, it's Rachel. Rachel Barbra Berry. I was named after the iconic legend of stage and screen, Miss Barbra Streisand herself." She watches as his eyebrows knit together below his forehead.

"Well, my second name."

"Where does Rachel come from then?"

She pauses, watching him as he asks. He hasn't written anything but her name down on his sheet of paper. This is an interview, isn't it? She feels like he's supposed to be asking more questions pertaining to her career, her childhood.

"My parents were obsessed with Friends when they found out they were having me."

Finn laughs at her forced answer, not writing anything down on the sheet of paper before him. He notes her pout and change of position in her chair, moving her arms up to cross over her chest like a wall to the rest of her. "Hey, it's fine. You want to know why my parents named me Finn?"

She unfolds her arms and adjusts in her chair. "Why?"

"My great, great, great, great grandpa owned this potato farm, and I guess he had this dog that he loved and treated like his best friend, and he named it Finley. The name stuck, and I guess, and my mom picked that name for me."

Rachel stifles a laugh and smiles at him, letting her guard down after he tells her his story.

"Finley?" She giggles sweetly, trying not to sound like she's teasing him. She really isn't teasing him, she hopes he realizes. "Why don't you go by your full name in the paper?"

"I don't know. Too old-fashioned, I guess."

She smiles, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. "Well, I think it's sweet. The story and everything, I mean. My parents weren't that creative when they named me. I'm named after Jennifer Aniston's haircut that rocked the world in the nineties."

Finn smiles, the touch of her hand on his again startling him. She seems like she goes from this unabashed woman to a shy, introvert in a matter of seconds. He slips his hand out from underneath hers, arching back down to view his notepad.

"Well, maybe you'll start a trend with a haircut, and they can call it the Rachel, too. The Rachel 2.0."

Rachel giggles, running a hand through her hair. "I could see how the banged bob could catch on." She laughs a bit to herself, smiling at Finn. "It's trendy." She's since cut her hair off from high school; the dark waves ending just above her shoulders, blunt bangs falling in her eyes. She had originally cut it for the show, but she's grown a liking to it. It's less to take care of, which is exactly what she needs.

"So, um, what was your life like before you came here?" Finn asks, getting down to business. Rachel can see this and places her hands in her lap, like she's at a job interview. She's only been through one job interview, she knows nothing else. The rest of the interviews she's done haven't been over dinner and drinks.

Speaking of which, their waitress hasn't even arrived with their courtesy breadsticks yet. She'll have to see the house manager before their night is over.

"Nothing special. I grew up in Lima, Ohio, which is the smallest excuse for a town I've ever seen." She sighs deeply and prepares the monologue she tells others of her life, one she's told countless times. "While others were busy playing football and cheerleading, however, I excelled in the arts; pushing myself in every category possible. By the time I reached age six, I realized that the theatre was my true passion, and I chose to follow my passion, like many do. I'm just one of the lucky few that's succeeded."

Finn can't move his hand fast enough to put all of her words onto paper. Although he's been trained not to, he wants to record her word for word. She's got such an extensive vocabulary, and the way she talks about herself like she knows everything about everyone and everything probably comes across as irritating to most people, but he likes it. She's confident, not cocky. He wonders if people often make this assumption about her, but she beats him to the punch and answers his question for her.

"Of course, I went through many a trouble in high school. People thought I was too big for my britches, that I was just a big fish in a small pond. I knew, however, that I was built for the big leagues."

"Did you have any friends that supported you on your way to… stardom?" The word slips out of his mouth uneasily.

Rachel feels her heart skip a beat, her stomach tie itself in knots. Sometimes she wonders if her stomach's gone through Girl Scout training; it ties itself in knots faster than she knows how to undo them.

"Not a friend, per say, but a boyfriend. He's always been there for me."

Finn smiles a bit at her response, writing it down in his notes like the dutiful reporter he is. He's good, and he knows it – but not like Rachel does. She carries herself so that everyone knows she's good, and everyone knows that she knows that she's good.

She's a mystery.

"So, this boyfriend, were you close all through high school, or?" Finn can't help but wonder what kind of girlfriend she'd make. She's stunning, of course, with legs to die for and boobs that he's been staring at all night when she isn't looking. But she has this megawatt smile and this disposition about her that are some of the most loveable things in the world, even if he's just known her for a matter of moments.

The way she answers his questions with such vim and vigor, like they're questions she's never been asked before. Finn tries not to ask the same questions over and over to the performers he interviews, knowing they've answered the same questions time after time. But she has the bright, sunny attitude that makes him smile.

She could wake the living dead with her laugh.

It sounds like she's singing, which only makes him wonder what she sounds like when she sings. He wonders what she sounds like when she sings, since he's heard nothing but good things about her. There has to be a reason behind why she's a top contender for a Tony nomination this season.

His eyes glance down at her hands quickly, realizing that they aren't on the table anymore. He racks his brain, trying to think if she's wearing any rings on her fingers. Actresses normally don't wear wedding or engagement bands, though, since they're not supposed to wear them on stage. It's Monday, her only night off of the week. He doubts she would be the type of girl to put her wedding ring back on for only one night, especially if she wasn't seeing her husband or boyfriend or whatever she had that meant something to her.

She's beautiful, and he may have a chance if he plays his cards right. Judging from their conversation so far, she seems to like him just fine, but she's programmed to act this way. She's an actress, she's supposed to treat each person like her best friend and like she's known them her entire life and she loves them dearly like a family member.

Although, Finn can't see Rachel Berry sugar coating anything in her life. She seems like a realist, but a dreamer. She knows what she wants but doesn't play any games to get there. She's the perfect package coming in around five feet tall.

Rachel clears her throat and Finn snaps back into reality, looking up from his notepad.

"Oh, we're not apart," she says, voice twisting into confusion. "Jesse St. James, maybe you've heard of him?" She begins to blush and her words turn into words of adoration, gushing as she speaks about this man she's put up on a pedestal. "He teaches music to underprivileged children in the Bronx, but he's hoping to establish his own career on Broadway someday." She looks up and sighs deeply, losing herself in her thought of how perfect her boyfriend is.

"He's a saint."

Finn feels his heart sink, his stomach feeling like he's just swallowed a pound of cement. Naturally, the one girl he falls head over heels for from the second he sees her is claimed by someone else. He shouldn't be so shocked; she's a celebrity. Millions of people see the picture of her in Times Square each day and ogle her and want her for themselves, but Finn knows that she can only belong to one person. Unless she's one of those Mormons that's into polygamy and stuff, but he doesn't want that either.

If he were some kind of masked superhero, Finn could sweep Rachel up in his arms right now and claim her for himself, peppering her with kisses and being able to call her his own.

"I really hope that at some point, we can star in Les Miserables together, as Marius and Éponine, respectively. Although our romance on stage will fall into shambles, our real life romance will show through come curtain call."

Finn couldn't hear himself think. Who he thought was the well-rounded, lovely woman was nothing but a shallow girl obsessed with her boyfriend.

More importantly, she had a boyfriend. Who she was clearly in love with. It felt like his entire life had just circled a drain.

"Make sure to put that last part in the paper, won't you? It would mean the world to me. That's the best thing I've said all night."

_No, it's not_, Finn thinks. _The best things you've said all night are how hard you've tried to get here, how much you love performing in front of everyone up on that stage each night. People are going to want to know about you overcoming the audition process of being in a Broadway show after you win your Tony award, not how badly you want to star in some production with your boyfriend. _

It's playing desperate, and he won't print it in his article.

"Sure," he tells her, crossing a dark line across something on his paper. "It'll be the headline for the Arts section."

She giggles and claps her hands together in excitement, bouncing up in her chair a bit. She's made a friend in this Finn Hudson character, she thinks. He's charming and lovely and he's going to write nice things about her in the paper, to top it all off.

Their waitress finally arrives to the table, a basket of cold breadsticks in hand. She wants to leave a quarter as the tip, but she looks at Finn, a smile growing on her face.

She'll cover their dinner. She'll be paying for their food, but his report on her will be paying for her Tony.


	2. The Night Before

She's worked incredibly hard. Each dance class and each voice lesson is going to pay off, she thinks. For every acting class she's had to pretend that she's walking through Jell-O while her limbs are on fire, she's going to have a shining, silver beacon over her fireplace, telling everyone where she's been.

For as long as she can remember, Rachel Berry has wanted a Tony award.

She's watched the awards ceremony every year since she was old enough to understand the meaning of such a thing. The brunette sits in front of her television each spring without fail, watching and analyzing each moment of the award ceremony. She takes note of the performances and when actors flub their dance steps, making sure to announce to the entire room (even if it's just to her cat) of the role she'll soon play on Broadway, saying how she'd do it differently than the actress currently being nominated for an award she hopes to hold in her hand someday.

All through high school and college, she practiced her acceptance speech in the shower, turning a bottle of shampoo into a makeshift trophy. She's going to thank her fathers, her teachers, her best friend from college. She can already see Santana looking at her from the audience as she's crying over a podium and trying to remember who to thank and who not to thank, Santana pumping her fist wildly in the air and cheering for her as the orchestra swells to play her off of the stage.

Of course, she'll thank Jesse. He's her muse and she's his.

She marks events in her life by the musicals that have won the award for Best Musical. Her braces went on the year _Rent _won the prize, they came off when the cast of _Fosse_ went up to accept their award.

With some luck, she can document the year she gets married when the show she stars in gets the gold, or the year she has her first child. She and Jesse already have all of this planned out; each moment laid out in front of them like in a blueprint.

:.:.:

"You've never been better," he tells her that night after her show, a small smile appearing on his face. "You're the best Velma Kelly I've ever seen, Rach. Someone should murder Catherine Zeta-Jones for the performance she thought she gave in that horrible movie."

Rachel giggles and looks up at Jesse as he stands in front of her, able to see him better in the heels the costume director's put her in. They lengthen her legs, she tells her, but Rachel knows that her legs don't need any lengthening. They're fine the way they are.

"You know, she won an Oscar for that movie. Maybe she's better than you give her credit for?" She giggles again, craning her neck up to kiss him, but he turns, heading into her dressing room.

She wears a small pout as she follows him, watching him as he sits on the couch before her. She's still stuck in her costume and makeup; a scandalously short black flapper dress with beads hanging from it that glitter when she turns the right way under the spotlight of the stage, fishnets wrapped around her legs. Her makeup is as dark as ever, her hair framing her face perfectly.

_Whoever dresses her for her shows makes her look perfect, _Jesse thinks.

Rachel can't understand what he wants from her. She's done everything she can to make sure he's happy, and he doesn't look particularly upset – maybe this is a good day. Most of them are, anyway.

"Well, your performance outdoes hers any day, babe." Rachel grins and goes behind her room divider, her silhouette still visible to Jesse as he watches her peel her dress from her body and throw it over the edge of the partition. "You know, I'm probably not at liberty to say, but I heard that there was someone here tonight watching your performance. You know, for the American Theater Wing?"

Rachel feels her heart skip a beat. 'The American Theater Wing?" She repeats anxiously, poking her head out from around the room partition, holding her blouse to her chest. "Jesse, those are the people that decide the winners of the Tony Awards. Are you sure that they were here for me?"

"The man behind me clearly said something about 'the talented girl playing Velma Kelly.' Unless there's another talented girl up on that stage, he's talking about you, Rachel."

She doesn't know what to call the next noise that escapes her lips; somewhere between a squeal and a shriek. This is everything she's wanted and everything she's worked towards, and her boyfriend is telling her that the very thing standing in her way has just seen her perform. She feels like her life has just ended.

Yet at the same time, it feels like her life's been reborn. This is her chance to finally make something of her career. At first it was just making sure she was proud of herself, making it to Broadway.

"What did he say?" Rachel slings her leg up on a chair, unbuckling her garters and rolling her fishnets down her legs. She buttons her blouse up over her chest, standing in nothing but her underwear and her blouse that can clearly be seen through. Rachel's modesty is out the door by now, though. This is probably the most important thing she'll ever hear.

"'Miss Berry seems to be giving a performance beyond deserving recognition,'" Jesse tells her, putting on a voice to sound like the man he's been sitting in front of. "I would start preparing your list of people to thank, Rach."

Rachel feels her heart fall to the pit of her stomach, eyes widening in front of Jesse. She giggles like a little girl and jumps up and down, flinging herself towards Jesse until she ends up in his arms. He holds her and she smiles at him, unable to stop her laughter.

This is the most important thing she'll ever hear from anyone – well, this and when someone announces her name up on that stage on awards night.

:.:.:

Finn tears the sheet of paper from the notepad, crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it towards the garbage can.

Miss.

He's never been good at basketball. Even when he was in high school, he tried to join the team to impress a girl, but he didn't make the team, anyway.

It's not fair how he has to write this article on this girl he doesn't want to write about. The girl who runs the photojournalism department has sent him the pictures shot of Rachel to go along with his interview and review of her performance. He wonders when the pictures have been taken, and he knows he's not supposed to look through the folder, but technically, there's no one to stop him. It's late, most workers have gone home for the night. His little cubicle is dimly lit by the small lamp he keeps on his desk, the others around him turned off for the night.

He doesn't know much about photo taking, but Finn knows that these pictures are gorgeous. He knows how to identify a gorgeous girl, and Rachel has to be the definition of gorgeous. The pictures are no exception; she's sprawled out across a bed in what looks like an old hotel room, wearing a short black skirt that ends above her knees, a black lace bra covering her chest. He can't understand how she can look into the camera and somehow make him feel like he's looking into her eyes, and it scares him for a moment.

There's pictures of her in front of a lit mirror, pictures of her straddling a pillow on the bed, pictures of her doing what Finn thinks is applying makeup, he isn't sure. He hasn't had enough girlfriends put their makeup on in front of him to know why Rachel's tracing lines around her eyes.

He wonders if he gets to pick out what pictures get highlighted in the article, since he's the one writing it and all. He's found one that he particularly likes, and he can picture it right there, in the middle of the Arts section, his writing surrounding it.

Finn still can't get over how upset he is, though. He shouldn't feel this way about a girl he's only met once. Especially not a girl that's already in a committed relationship. By the way she talked about him at the restaurant, she's head over heels for this guy. Finn doesn't even know who he is, not recognizing his name when Rachel told it to him.

He's under the impression that this Jesse St. James character is a clown, whether he's met him or not. Finn's the only one that deserves to hang Rachel from his arm, the only one that should be allowed to see her and spend time with her.

The same thought has crossed Finn's mind over a hundred times since he had met her over dinner. Even as he watched her scoff at the waitress after she informed her that they had no vegan options and that she would just have to settle on a salad, Finn had the same through zap through his brain. It was wrong to think that way, he knew, but he couldn't help it.

Finn had fallen in love with the girl on the _Chicago_ poster.

:.:.:

"You've got an appointment with the New York Journal this afternoon. Don't be late." Santana brushes a finger over her phone and scans it over her sunglasses.

Rachel feels her heart swell as she hears Santana mention the New York Journal. As demanding as a manager as Santana is, Rachel doesn't mind. She really doesn't have a need for a manager, anyway. Rachel's always been able to manage all of her problems herself, she doesn't need someone to manage her life for her. Santana, however, had come to her after moving to New York asking for a job, and she couldn't refuse. The girl who teased her all throughout high school had someone managed to become one of her closest friends through school, after both of them went to NYU; Rachel for Musical Theatre, Santana for Pre-Law. It's harder to find a job to pay for law school than Santana ever thought, however, which caused her to run to Rachel for help.

She was lucky Rachel liked her.

"The Journal?" Rachel asks, her voice going up into a lull. "Is it for an interview with Finn Hudson?"

Santana furrows her brow, almost stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "How do you know his name, Rach?"

"We went out to dinner a couple of nights ago. It was for the paper, and everything." Santana rolls her eyes and the girls continue walking until they reach Rachel's apartment building. It's nothing huge; she's told herself that she won't live in a penthouse setting until she moves to California and becomes the next Julia Roberts.

Santana knows all about Rachel and Jesse. She, however, doesn't feel the same way about their relationship that Rachel does. Jesse's a douchebag, and she won't refuse to tell Rachel how she feels about him. They all went to school together, Santana and Rachel rooming for two years until Rachel finally decided that she wanted to move in with Jesse. It made her happy at first, anyway; it left her so she wouldn't have to walk into the dorm room she and Rachel shared to see her friend sleeping underneath a blanket in what was usually Santana's bed, wrapped up in her naked boyfriend's arms.

She knows how Jesse thinks it's fun to sleep around and mess with other girls, too. She doesn't know if Rachel's ever seen him in action, but Santana has. The way he talks to other girls, girls that are in Rachel's cast, even, like he dates them and wants to get into their pants.

And the sad thing is, he does get into their pants. When Rachel's out at her shows and performing, Jesse won't refuse to call one of the girls they went to school with. Rachel knows these girls. Rachel hates these girls. Santana knows them and doesn't necessarily like them, but she sure doesn't now.

Santana refuses to tell Rachel, though. She doesn't deserve to know, not yet. Part of Santana hopes that Rachel will find out on her own, so she doesn't have to tell her herself. That's the last thing she wants, and hopefully it never has to happen.

"Well, Rach, just make sure you get there on time. I'm going to be at the show tonight, so-"

"Cool," Rachel snaps, walking away from Santana in a rush. Santana scoffs, looking over at Rachel as she walks away.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"To the Journal," she tells her, spinning around on her heels. "Better to be early than late, right?"

:.:.:

Finn thought he was dreaming when Rachel walked into his cubicle, yet here she is, sitting on the edge of his desk, offering to hand him different colored pens from his mug to make corrections to his article.

He's finished his interview with her; starting it the second she came in. His questions vary from what kind of pets she had growing up to the roles she hopes to play on the Broadway stage someday. She gives him answers that he actually likes, and he ignores all references to her boyfriend. There aren't many of them, though, which makes him feel better about everything.

"You know, you didn't have to stay late," Finn tells her as he looks down at his notepad, transferring his notes on Rachel onto his laptop, beginning to write his article before formatting it. "I won't be going home for a while. I've got finish this article, and then start to format it, and I just-"

"It's fine," she tells him, swinging her legs back and forth on the desk. "I have the night off tonight, anyway. It's a good thing you're going to see me tomorrow, huh?"

Finn laughs, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Yeah," he says, bouncing his foot. It's a habit he's developed since high school that he does when he's nervous, and it's followed him through until now, when he's a grown adult with a job. "I'm excited to see you though. I've never even heard about _Chicago _until I got the chance to see you in it, so I'm excited."

A small little gasp comes out of Rachel's lips, swinging a hand up to her chest in shock. Finn laughs a bit, looking at her like she's lost her marbles.

"…Are you alright?"

Rachel smiles at him, dropping her shocked expression. "No, I'm fine. I just thought you would have heard about the musical before seeing me in it."

Finn chuckles a bit to himself, making a red line in his notebook over some words he's scrawled that he deems unreadable. "Would you mind giving me a bit of a synopsis before I go? You know, just so I have a basic idea of what I'm going to see?"

Rachel giggles and Finn laughs along with her. He swears that he can get lost in her eyes; they're big and brown and sparkle when she laughs, the ends of her lips curling up and her nose scrunching up on her face. He doesn't know how she manages it, but Rachel somehow manages to look adorable one minute to looking like a vixen the next. It's a skill he thinks she's had to take time to perfect, that she's practiced during school or something.

She clears her throat and pretends she has some kind of audience before her, even though it's only Finn sitting next to her, now turned around in his swivel chair so he can take all of her in without his back facing her. "Well, I guess I could. But it makes more sense when you see it."

"I'm sure if you explain it, I'll get it. You've got a great way with words, Rachel."

Her giggles fill the small cubicle once more, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Basically, the musical takes place in Chicago, in the 1920's, where this girl kills her lover after she realizes that her husband's going to find out that she's been sleeping with someone else behind his back. Then she goes to jail and she meets me, a past vaudeville actress and the sexiest woman in the prison, and we both kind of vie for the fame of being murderesses, I guess."

"You're the sexiest woman in the prison?"

Rachel scoffs a bit, swatting Finn on the shoulder. "Of course I am!"

Finn wishes he can tell her that he knows; he's looked through the pictures that have been sent to his desk in the manila folder that she pushed aside when she sat down.

There's a beat of silence between them, the only sound filling the cubicle is Finn's fingers tapping against laptop keys, working away at her article. She's bound to be a hit, and he feels like this is one of the best articles he's written in a long time. Maybe it's because he cares, he realizes, as he looks at Rachel sitting on his desk, wearing that smile that's criminally adorable.

"You know, Finn, I was thinking that maybe we could go out to dinner again? Not for the article, but just as f-friends?" The last word seems to be hard for her to say, Finn reading too far into everything. Is she asking him out on a date? The girl on the poster and in the pictures on his desk that is so undeniably beautiful is asking him on a date?

"I just thought that it would be nice. Besides, our last dinner's service was so horrible, I thought we were in line for a re-do." She smiles at him sweetly, causing Finn to turn around in his chair to face her once more.

He watches her as she smiles, loving every second of her. She's in his cubicle and she's talking to him, and she's smiling at him and she's gorgeous, inviting him on another date. He has to be dreaming.

"Um, s-sure, Rachel, that sounds… great." His mouth goes dry the second he looks her in the eyes. "Was t-there anywhere you wanted to go in particular?" She smiles at him sweetly, his eyes wide and mouth seconds from falling open. "You can pick it, too, since I'm sure you know where all of the restaurants are that have vegan options."

Rachel giggles and rolls her eyes a bit, adjusting herself on the desk. "Sure. Whatever you say."

Finn nods his head as a smile grows on his face. He isn't sure exactly what vegans eat; he's guessing grass and tofu. She doesn't eat meat or cheese – two of his favorite foods. Cooking dinner for her must be a challenge.

He forms his hand into a little fist and pumps it sarcastically, like he's overcome something great. His fist pumping routine ends rather badly, however, when his hand crashes down on a letter opened he has on his desk that he's forgotten about.

"Shit," he exclaims, feeling the sharp pain shoot down his hand, a red stream of blood curving around his palm. Rachel leans over and notices his bloodied hand, gasping a bit.

"Oh, my God, are you alright?" Finn groans in pain a bit, clutching his hand. After Rachel doesn't hear an actual response from Finn, she begins to look around in a panic, her heart racing. "Is there a kitchen here?" Finn nods his head slowly, Rachel getting up off of the desk and leading him around the bend of his cubicle.

"Lead the way," she orders, and Finn does as she tells him.

:.:.:

The domestic side of Rachel is out in full force; finding a soft rag and wetting it with ice water, ringing it out and pressing it to Finn's hand. He sits on the counter and she stands before him on the floor, holding the rag to his hand.

"There," she says, looking up at him. "Does that feel better?"

Finn nods his head, gulping as he catches sight of her. "How did you know that would stop it from hurting so much?" She shrugs a bit, a small smile curling onto her face.

"I don't know," she tells him, pride swelling in her voice. "I guess it's just something your mother's supposed to teach you." Finn, however, can't help but feel confused.

"Mother? Rachel, I thought you didn't have a mother? I thought you had two-"

"No," she barks, interrupting him curtly. "I mean, I have a mother, doesn't everybody? Even a-adopted kids have mothers. Didn't you learn anything in biology, Finn?"

He sighs, deciding not to go any further with the question. She appears to have been caught off guard, insecure. Her face has turned red and Finn can feel her heavy breathing against his chest; that's how close she's standing to him. He tips his head down and sees the top of her head, and she's just so close to him and he can feel the heat of her own hand through the damp rag, and she-

"I should probably get going," she tells him nervously, pain laced in her voice. "Um, you have my phone number, right? Or at least Santana's. Call me, alright? I'll try and find a time when we can go out. Just you and me." She begins to walk away, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

Finn doesn't want her to leave, however. This is the closest they've ever been, the closest they probably ever will be – and she's deciding to leave, for reasons he doesn't understand why. Her face is flush and she looks like she's about to cry, and he wants to ask her if she's alright, but she doesn't look like she wants to talk.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, alright?" Finn moves his own hand over the wet rag, standing up and walking after her. "Can I find you at the stage door?"

"If you want to," she tells him, not bothering to look back. "I'll wait for you."

And he hears her tell him that she'll wait for him, and it seems to make all of the pain from his cut go away.


	3. Secrets

It's this little Ethiopian place in Brooklyn, one where the lighting is dim and the carpets look dirty. Normally Rachel doesn't like restaurants that require eating with your hands instead of forks and knives and have people humming and playing the bongo drums in a corner, but she feels that if she's with Finn, she'll be alright.

She finds the restaurant online, deciding that she'll skip out on the regular cast get together for drinks and appetizers at a bar after the show to go out to dinner at the restaurant she's found. It excites her, getting to go out to dinner with this man she's just met who she's taken such a liking to. It normally takes time for her to warm up to people, but it's different with Finn. He's so sweet and kind, unlike many of the men she's met along the path of her career. She's excited to talk to him and to get to know him better.

:.:.:

"Girls, Berry's got a hot date tonight, so everyone has to make sure she's got the right underwear on. We wouldn't want her to have to fuck some guy in her granny panties." The blonde lets out a shrill cackle, looking at Rachel through the mirror from behind the brunette's chair. The raucous group of girls in the makeup room all begin to hoot and holler, another leggy blonde walking up to Rachel as she tries to focus on putting her makeup on in the mirror.

"I thought you had a boyfriend?" Brittany asks, her voice laced with works. "Won't he be mad?"

Quinn swats at Brittany, rolling her eyes and shoving her out of her way so she can just see Rachel in the mirror. Her hazel eyes stare into Rachel's brown ones through the mirror, placing her hands on her shoulders.

"Do you really have a date tonight? I thought we were all going to Jitters for drinks and a smoke-"

"I don't smoke," Rachel interrupts, swirling a brush of foundation around her cheeks. "It's horrible for your voice, Quinn, and you of all people should know." She scoffs for a moment, looking down to find her tube of lipstick. "You obviously don't remember your three month long bout with nodes, hmm?"

Quinn rolls her eyes and bends down on her knees, resting her chin on Rachel's shoulder. "Look, Berry, I'm trying to be nice to you, alright?" The blonde looks at Rachel as she takes her lipstick over her lips, painting them the bright red she does every night. "Anyway, who are you seeing tonight?"

"How do you know I'm going out with someone tonight?" Rachel begins to wonder why Quinn knows so much about her personal life. She isn't good friends with Quinn. They get along because they have to; they're co-stars. Rachel's supposed to get along with Quinn and treat her like she likes her, but she doesn't. The girls take smiling pictures together and go to events hand in hand, but Rachel knows that Quinn can't stand her. It doesn't matter, anyway. Rachel knows she's better than the blonde and has a much brighter future. Quinn's known for spending all of her time trying to fit in with others and drinking, anyway. Rachel markets herself so that her audiences and producers alike find her perfectly endearing.

"You need to learn how to keep your voice down when you're on the phone," Quinn tells her knowingly. "Look, Rachel, it really doesn't matter. I don't care if you decide to go out to sleep with hundreds of guys, even though you and I both know that'll never happen. Anyway, I just wanted to know who you're going out with. Something's got to be pretty good for you not to want to go back to your apartment with your boyfriend afterwards."

Rachel rolls her eyes, trying her best not to make eye contact with Quinn. Quinn's eyes scare the brunette. She's told Santana on multiple occasions that she has these hazel eyes that look like they're staring into your soul. Santana just laughs and calls her the Dragon Lady, even to her face. The relationship of Santana and Quinn is one of the funniest things Rachel has ever seen, although part of her worries that Quinn plans to retaliate someday and kill Santana, although Rachel knows that if there ever was a fight between them, Santana would kill Quinn in an instant. Growing up in Lima Heights Adjacent had already paid off for both of the girls when they had moved to New York.

"He's just a friend, Quinn. We're going out to dinner just to talk. We haven't gotten the chance to see each other for a while." Rachel doesn't want to tell Quinn that it's the man from the newspaper who's interviewed her already, the same man who's seeing her tonight to give her the review of her performance to put in the paper.

It sounds fishy, the more she thinks about it. The fact that she's going out on a date with this guy who's writing an interview about her in the paper sends across the wrong message. It's not like she wants to go out with him to sway his opinion of her performance tonight. Rachel knows that Finn is a honest reporter, and that no matter what she does, he won't change the opinion of his review. If she does a good job, she does a good job. If she doesn't, she doesn't.

But she knows she will. She's Rachel Berry. Rachel Berry never gives a bad performance.

"Well, you and your 'friend' make sure to have fun, alright? We wouldn't want you coming back tomorrow crying or something because you had a shitty time tonight." Quinn laughs softly to herself and walks away from Rachel, finding her own space in the mirror. "Have fun, Berry."

Part of Rachel feels like Quinn's right, though. What if their date ends up being… more than a date? Or is it even a date? Every time Rachel's been on a date, it's been with someone she has feelings for and enjoys the company of. She doesn't love Finn. Finn's someone that she enjoys the company of and wants to spend more time with. Besides, she's in love with Jesse. She loves him more than anything else in the world and she wants to make sure that he stays with her forever, because they're meant to be together. They have more chemistry than any other couple she's seen, both emotionally and musically. Does Finn even play an instrument or sing?

At the same time, though, she's been looking forward to their dinner since the day she thought of the idea. She wants to spend more time with him and just talk to him. Maybe not about her, but to learn more about him. He's sweet and he smiles each time she laughs, which makes her laugh even more. There's something about him that makes her heart swell each time she sees him, and it scares her. Is she supposed to feel this way about someone she's just met?

Finn Hudson has been the best thing in her life for the past few days. She likes how he seems to take so much concern about how she feels, and she likes how he has a dimple on one side of his face whenever her smiles, causing her to smile even more. He's the sweetest man she's ever met, and she wants to be friends with him. She wants to spend as much time with him as possible, because she likes the company he brings her. He's the nicest guy she's met in a long time, and they get along so well.

She can't understand the butterflies that end up in her stomach when she sees him, however. Both times that she's seen him or whenever Santana mentions him, Rachel knows that it's Finn, actually wanting to spend time and talk to her. Her hands clam up and she feels like a fish out of water, not knowing what to do with herself. She wants to spend time with him, and although she continues to deny it, part of her is dying for more of him. She wants more than what they have, but she knows that she won't have it. There's something so loving and endearing about him, and she wants that. She knows that she already has that with Jesse, but Rachel wants it with Finn.

She scolds herself for being so selfish and walks into her dressing room, the door closing behind her. She has a show to perform for one of the newest, best people in her life, and she'll die if she disappoints him.

:.:.:

Finn can't wrap his head around how beautiful she looks up on that stage when she's in her costume and makeup, the lights dim with a red glow in the background and a spotlight aimed directly on her, following as she struts around on platforms and dangles herself over stair banisters. She's gorgeous, and he's so mesmerized that he isn't bothering to write any notes down about her performance. Finn can't understand how someone can be so perfect in every way.

And then he realizes that he's doing it again, and he tells himself that he has to stop. She belongs to someone else, someone that she sure seems to love with all of her heart. There's no steering her away from this guy that Finn knows Rachel's fallen head over heels for, much like he's fallen for her. He tries to put himself in her shoes and thinks of what he would do if some maniac was chasing after his girlfriend, which puts everything into perspective for a few moments. He's gone crazy, thinking about this girl.

It doesn't help that her billboard is visible from the window he looks out of every day at work. He'll peer out the window and see her looking at him, sending his heart racing at a pace that he's sure is unhealthy. Finn doesn't see her as the sexy woman on the billboard for the musical she's in anymore, though. He sees Rachel Berry, the sweetest girl he's ever met. He pictures her in the flowing pink dress that she wore the first night they met and he sees stars, having to shake his head to clear his thoughts. It's unhealthy how much he thinks about her.

He can't help it, though, when she's up on stage dancing like she's about to perform a striptease just for him. He thinks that she would have warned him beforehand if there was any nudity in the show, and he would have hoped she would if there was – but there isn't, and his heartbeat returns back to its regular pace.

Finn doesn't know what he would do if there was.

The way she dances across the stage like she owns it makes him smile, and when she sings – God, when she sings, he feels like she's looking right at him, singing directly to him. And he knows that she's not, but the way she bends over to his eye level and the way her eyes smolder at him make him feel like each word that comes out of her mouth during All That Jazz are directed at him, and only him.

And then she belts that final note and her voice soars through the entire theatre, and Finn feels like he has to cross his legs.

He didn't just get turned on by her singing, did he?

:.:.:

"So, are you going to tell me how I did?" Rachel asks him eagerly as they walk down the street to the restaurant she's selected. It's a surprise for him, because she doesn't want him to complain. Finn doesn't seem like the complaining type, though. Rachel feels that even if she brings him to a dumpster in a back alley, he'll just smile and tell her that he's happy to be there.

Finn rolls his eyes and laughs. "I can't tell you how you did. That would wreck the entire concept of me coming to review your performance." She giggles sweetly and Finn aches to reach out and take her by the hand. Her hands is right there, and part of him feels like she wouldn't even notice. He feels like he's spent most of his time these past few days with her, so it wouldn't be a problem. Maybe she wants to do the same. Don't friends hold each other's hands?

"Oh, I'll make you tell me. I'm very persuasive, Mr. Hudson." She giggles and looks up at him with a smile, Finn trying not to take her hand in his even more. _I know you're persuasive, _he thinks. _You're the one that's got me thinking about you each second we're not together. _

Rachel startles him with a swat to the shoulder before running out in front of him. "We're here!" She exclaims proudly, her arms stretching in front of the restaurant to present it dramatically. Finn's surprised when he realizes that this is the restaurant she's brought them to. If he had spent any more time obsessing over the small brunette, he would walk directly into oncoming traffic.

"This place has vegan food?" Finn asks, his eyebrows knitting together on his face. Rachel just giggles, walking towards him again. She's so small; standing directly in front of him and having to look up to see his face. She decides that she's never seen his entire face before, she's decided. He has to be at least seven feet tall.

"Most restaurants do, Finn," she tells him almost incredulously. "I think it was just that waitress at the last restaurant we were at. She must have been jealous of me for being out to dinner with someone like you." Finn feels like he's going to melt right there. Is she messing with him on purpose? Rachel can't try to play dumb and innocent with him. He knows just how bad she can be; he's seen her up on stage tonight. Finn feels like Rachel knows how to wrap anyone around her finger if she wants to.

Does she actually think that, though? Does Rachel feel that way about him? Part of Finn hopes that she does, because hey – he does too. He has feelings for this girl that he can't explain, and all he wants is for her to feel the same way. The other part of him doesn't, because she already has a boyfriend. She seems to love this relationship she's in so much, and she doesn't want to stray from it any time soon. Finn wants to meet this guy and see what he has that he doesn't. Rachel seems too perfect to belong with anyone – not even him.

"Well, we should probably get inside," he tells her, ruffling her hair playfully. "I want to see what vegan food tastes like."

:.:.:

He tells her his life story, and she listens intently, not taking her eyes away from his for a moment. He tells her about how he grew up in East Deliverance, New York, his dad going off to fight in the Army when he was about six. Finn feels his chest tighten as he tells her about how his dad passed away, watching as tears come up in her eyes and she giggles, trying to fix her makeup before it creates long black roadmaps of mascara down her cheeks. The fact that she starts to cry makes him feel more upset; he doesn't want to see her so upset along with him.

It's not all bad, though. He tells her about how he moved to the city to be a journalist, and how he tried to learn how to play the piano a long time ago. She smiles and she tells him that he's the most interesting person she's ever met, and that Barbara Walters should definitely consider interviewing him as one of her most fascinating people.

Finn realizes that he's made a mistake the second he asks her about her mother. He knows that it's a bad idea from the start, but after their conversation the night before, he wants to know. Why would she become so upset after mentioning that she didn't have a mother? She had told him during her first interview that she grew up with two gay dads, so he doesn't expect her to have a mother. He knows that she must have some kind of mother, but he doesn't expect her to know anything about her.

"Why would you ask me something like that?" She asks him, her voice catching in her throat. They're finishing up dinner now, waiting for the waitress to bring them their check. "I told you, I have two dads. Granted, one of them is slightly more feminine, but-"

"No, Rachel, I want to know about your mom. Like, you mentioned her the other night, in the staff kitchen at work?"

Rachel feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She doesn't want to talk about this, because no one else ever wants to talk about this. She isn't used to bringing up the topic, and it hurts her to even think about it. It rubs her raw just thinking about the problems she's had with her mother. She's in no mood to talk about it with someone that she's just met, no matter how adorable his smile is.

"My mother is none of your business," she tells him curtly, ducking her head down to shuffle through her purse. "Besides, why do you want to know? So you can write something cute about it, in your paper?" Her voice catches on a sigh, Finn feeling his heart stammer in his chest.

_This was a bad idea,_ he thinks to himself, rubbing a hand across his face. "Look, Rach, if you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to. I just thought you'd want to talk about it, you know? Most girls love their moms. I love mine."

"Well, you'd be surprised," she snaps at him, picking her purse up and slinging it over her shoulder. "My mother's not like other moms. Most parents don't leave their kids without wanting to talk to them ever again." Finn looks at her, his face painted with worry.

"Rach, are you alright?" He's never called her Rach before, but he likes it. It rolls off the tongue and it's cute, like her.

"No," she says, her words biting through Finn's idea of how great she is. "I mean, I'm f-fine, I just… I'm fine. Just forget it." Rachel feels like she's going to explode, but she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to make him upset, but she feels dizzy as she tries to stand, quickly sitting back down and placing a hand to her forehead. She's warm, feeling it even through her own hand.

Finn looks at her with eyebrows knit together, concerned. "Rachel, you look pale. Are you sure that you're okay?"

She nods slowly, feeling tears well in her eyes. Crying in front of Finn isn't an option. She met him less than 72 hours ago, and she's already crying in front of him? "Will you walk me home?" She sniffles and looks at him, trying to wipe her eyes in a clean swipe. Finn just looks at her from across the table and nods, without questioning anything. He won't let her walk home alone, at least not like this. Rachel looks like she's going to fall apart, and he won't let her. He'll carry her all the way home if he has to.

:.:.:

"Do you really want to know about my mom?" Rachel asks meekly, tucking her hair back behind her ear and staring down at the sidewalk as she continues with Finn. She directs him in the way to her apartment, but she refuses to take the direct route. She knows that it's dangerous and that she shouldn't be walking out in Brooklyn at twelve in the morning, but she's got Finn by her side. She feels safer.

He looks down at her and this time, takes her hand. She's broken, or at least she looks to be that way. Friends do those kinds of things, don't they?

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Rachel. I get it."

But she doesn't refuse, and she begins to tell him.

"I didn't know my mom until my sophomore year of high school. we went on this choir tour, with my school, and we came here, to New York. I was r-really excited, because it was my first time coming here and I always knew that I wanted to live in New York, so going there was really exciting for me." She sighs and her breath catches on a sob, but she fights her tears and continues. "Anyway, we got to go to a show, and the choir decided on _C-Chicago, _because we were singing All That Jazz that year."

_That must be why she's so good at singing that song,_ he thinks to himself.

"There was this actress, the actress that played Velma… she was the best actress I've ever seen. She was so beautiful, and she had this voice that was the prettiest thing I've ever heard. I just… it was the prettiest thing in the world. It sounded familiar, though, like I had heard it before."

Finn knit his eyebrows together, confused. "Wait, do you mean that you had the tape of the musical or something?" He pictured Rachel's apartment wallpapered with a collection of posters and CD's from various musicals, from _Singing in the Rain _to _The Book of Mormon. _

"No, she… " Her voice trailed off, drying her tears with the back of her hand. "My mom was a surrogate for my dads. She needed an extra bit of money so she could move to New York, and she got from my dads after getting pregnant with me and carrying me for nine months. When I was a baby, she sent my dads this tape of her singing, singing to me. I've kept it ever since." She mewls a bit and brushes her hair from her face, trying to keep her confidence. She's done a good job so far, she thinks.

"Anyway, when I heard her sing, I recognized her voice. It was the same voice of the woman on the tape that said she was my mom, and I-" She pauses, beginning to cry again. "I just wanted to meet her." She sobs through her words, nearly incomprehensible. "I just wanted to go up to her and tell her that I was her daughter, and that I needed her, but she…" Rachel continues to cry, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

Finn doesn't know what to do. She's falling apart, leaning against the shop window of a jewelry store now.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry." He walks up to her, brushing her hair away from her eyes. Rachel pauses to look into his eyes, only for a moment. "If there's anything I can do…"

"No," she sputtered, continuing to look into Finn's eyes. She felt so safe, knowing he was there holding her, supporting her. "She just ignored me and thought I was another 'obsessed fan.'"

"Where is she now?"

"She lives here. Shelby Corcoran, star of stage and screen. She's going to be up for a Tony this year for her role in _Evita. _And she's probably going to win."

Suddenly, everything began to click for Finn. The gears in his head began turning, smoke probably coming out of his ears. He wasn't the smartest tool in the shed, but Finn knew when someone was hurting. Rachel didn't want to get nominated for a Tony so she could brag about to everyone like other actresses did. Of course, she wanted one to want one; if you performed on Broadway, you wanted one. But Rachel wanted one because she knew it would be a ticket to being closer to her mom. Finn tries to imagine what his life would be like without his mom, and he can't. He loves his mom more than anyone else in the entire world, and he can't imagine what Rachel must have felt like, growing up. She's a girl, and she hasn't had a mother to share all of her important moments in life with.

"Rachel, you're going to meet your mom. I'll make sure of it." He brushes her hair from her face again, wiping his thumb softly across her cheek, pushing her tears off of her face. "You're going to get nominated for a Tony, and you're going to win it. Then, you're going to meet your mom and she's going to find out all about the beautiful girl she missed out on."

Her breath hitches in her throat, and they look each other for longer than either of them intend to. Rachel looks into Finn's eyes and she feels her heart race as he looks back at her, ducking down before she does anything hasty that she knows she'll regret. She feels the same way she does with Jesse, only her feelings are bigger, more unbridled. She feels something throb in her chest, and before she can do anything about it, Finn backs away a bit.

"T-Thanks for e-everything," Rachel stammers, turning away from him and walking away slightly. She leans in to kiss him on the cheek, and she feels like her lips are on fire. "I really needed to say that to someone. My apartment's just around the corner, so, um… yeah. Bye, Finn. I'll see you later."

Finn can't feel the right side of his face. All he feels are Rachel's lips, her kiss lighting his entire face on fire. He's just been kissed by the most beautiful girl in the world, and for some strange reason, he has a feeling she likes him back.


	4. Walking Out

**Thanks for all of the reviews and alerts! As for the reviews from people confused a bit, don't worry. Everything will be explained. Thanks again! :)**

**P.S: Also, someone sent me a PM asking if this story was going to get any more citrusy, and don't worry – it's rated M for a reason! I promise that this is the last chapter where there isn't sex. Haha. ;)**

Finn throws his keys on the small table by the door, rubbing his face as he sighs.

He still doesn't understand anything she's said.

How can someone carry a baby for nine months; watch it and feel it grow inside of them until it becomes a part of you, and then forget about it like it's nothing? Mothers are supposed to grow to love their baby before it's born; when they begin to buy the cradle and pick the color of the nursery. Finn's mother has told him that it was when she first felt him kick that she fell in love with him, and he doesn't understand why someone wouldn't want to keep their baby.

He's only met Shelby in passing, not actually talked to her. He doesn't know enough about her to make some kind of judgment, like he wants to do with Jesse. Sometimes Finn feels like he needs to see all of the people in Rachel's life in a perp line, getting the chance to meet them and see if they're fit enough for her.

Why does he feel this way about this girl he's only met a few days ago? He knows that it's none of his business to intrude on her personal life, but she's kind of put it out in front of him. He wasn't expecting Rachel to tell him all about her problems with her mother, but she has.

And now, he's left to put puzzle pieces together and wonder how she's doing in her own little world, closed off behind her apartment door. Maybe this is all her way of being 'mysterious,' or something like that.

Rachel Berry is a mystery, that's for sure – and he's going to crack her.

:.:.:

"Santana?"

The fiery Latina groans into her phone, answering it groggily. she recognizes that it's Rachel. "What's wrong, Cream Puff?" She leans up on her elbow and rests her phone in the crook between her chin and her shoulder. Conversations with Rachel always last long – a whole lot of talking from the short girl's end and a whole lot of listening from Santana's end.

She stops taking everything so lightly when she hears Rachel crying on the other end.

"It's okay to call you for moral support, right? Like, you're allowed to managed those sort of things too, right?" Santana adjusts herself in her bed as she hears Rachel sniffle on the other line, clearly on the verge of losing everything. She's never heard Rachel cry this much, or at least sound like she's so ready to cry. At least not in a professional setting.

"I may be your manager, pipsqueak, but I'm your friend first. Don't quote me on that though. I could feel my teeth rotting at how cheesy that was." Santana manages a small laugh from Rachel and it makes her feel better, if only for a few seconds.

Santana wonders if Rachel's finally found out about Jesse. _No,_ she thinks to herself for a moment before returning back to their conversation. _Barbra would be running over here like someone was threatening to burn her collection of Fred and Ginger movies if that had happened. _Santana doesn't understand how she can't see that her boyfriend doesn't love her the way she loves him. He treats her like a piece of meat, but she can't see it through the rose colored glasses she wears. Santana knows her way around tools, and Jesse Mason is a tool.

There's a long pause between the two of them, Rachel's soft, little muffled sobs the only sound coming from Rachel's side of the line.

"I told that reporter everything," she manages to get out. "I told him about my mom, San. He k-knows about… he knows about _everything._"

Santana gasps a little, running a hand through her hair nervously. "Shit, Rach, I'm sorry." She feels her heart skip a beat, her throat begin to close. Santana's heard the story and Rachel and her mother since sophomore year of high school, when their choir had come to the city for the first time. She was the one who didn't believe Rachel and called her a crazy midget, waving it off and telling their classmates that Rachel was just believing that her mom was a Broadway star because she had one too many cough drops on the plane.

But now, she still doesn't know whether or not to believe her. She's seen pictures of the woman she claims to be her mother; looking enough alike. Maybe Rachel isn't crazy, and maybe she's right about that whole 'sixth psychic sense' she tells her about all of the time. Rachel can't be imagining that her mom is the one that sings up on a Broadway stage every night.

After Rachel managed to land her part in _Chicago,_ Santana slowly understood that it was no joke. It was all because of her mom, even though Santana thought that it wouldn't matter either way. That role is Rachel, Rachel is that role. Each time Santana sees her strut out onto that stage, she continues to be impressed. Back in high school, when everyone said that Rachel was going to make something of herself, they never realized just how right they would be.

"Rach, everything's going to be okay, alright? I talked to this guy, he doesn't seem like a prick. You're just… you're thinking things through too much, okay?" Santana feels her heart palpitate a bit. She wants Rachel to be next to her, wrapped up in her arms so she can cry into her shoulder. She doesn't think people understand that others know how fragile Rachel is. For as much as the small brunette claims to have a sixth sense, Santana thinks that she's more of the psychic one. She can read someone from a mile away and know exactly how they're feeling.

"He said that he wanted to help," Rachel manages slowly, choking back her tears through time. "I d-don't know if he's crazy, or what, but San, I just… I needed someone to talk to."

The question as to why she didn't call Jesse lingers on her lips, but Santana can't bring herself to say it. She shouldn't be the one to tell Rachel, no matter how difficult it is for her to stay tight-lipped about the problem. She's been a bitch to Rachel too many times before, and doing it now would just make her feel horrible about everything else in her life.

"Tell you what," Santana begins, slowly easing herself out of bed, cradling her phone between her cheek and shoulder as she walks to her closet. "I'm going to be over there in about fifteen minutes, and I'll pick up one of your chai lattes, okay?" She's sure she can find a coffee shop that's open all night. "I'm not going to leave until you're okay, alright? We can go through your collection of Barbra movies or whatever, I don't care. Alright, Rach?"

Rachel just nods, even though she knows Santana can't hear it through the phone. "Alright, San. I'll see you then."

:.:.:

Rachel's always prided herself on how she can bounce back before a performance. She looks into the mirror in her dressing room and sighs, running a hand through her hair. Santana's managed to instill some kind of self confidence in her. She's told her that she's going to track down her mother after Rachel wins her Tony and reunite the two, and if she doesn't comply, Santana's going to beat her with that silver statue Rachel's just received.

She's snapped out of her daydream by Quinn slamming her door, stumbling into her dressing room.

"Shit, Berry, your door is jammed." The blonde pulls her sunglasses away from her eyes, placing them atop her head. "What, do you keep it that way so it's harder to open? Do you and Jesse like, do the nasty in here?"

Rachel rolls her eyes and looks into the mirror, not bothering to find Quinn with her eyes. She isn't worth the effort. "My boyfriend and I have much better moral standards than you might, Quinn. Besides, we would never dare do anything like… _that_ in here. It would be disgusting."

Quinn rolls her eyes and shoots Rachel a glare through the mirror. "You know, we really should try to get along more. We're supposed to be two of a kind. Best friends, right?"

She can't help but feel that Quinn's right. They're supposed to be friends, and they aren't. Co-stars are notorious for either being the closest of friends, or sworn enemies. She's not interested in being friends with Quinn, anyway. Rachel's managed to befriend Emery and Tina and other girls in the cast, but there are none she works as closely with as Quinn.

Rachel and Quinn are supposed to be friends, confidants. They're supposed to tell each other everything so they can better their acting technique when they're up on stage together.

_That's what Santana's for,_ she thinks to herself as she watches Quinn sets her bag on the countertop of her dressing room, striking a chord with the brunette. This is her dressing room. She's got her own room with her a star on the door, but this one belongs to Rachel. Her name's the one on the door, her pictures and personal belongings on the walls and mirrors of the room. She's worked hard for this room, and Quinn isn't about to take control of it.

"You don't have to stay-"

"But I do, Rachel." Quinn's voice sounds sharper than usual, causing Rachel to look at her for the first time. The blonde looks more disheveled than usual; her hair tied into a knotty bun at the nape of her neck, the makeup that she's worn that day on the streets smudged under her eyes. Something's wrong, but Rachel can't put her finger on it.

"How's your relationship going, anyway? You and Jesse… things going alright, right?"

Rachel pricks up her ears upon hearing Quinn's somewhat pleasant tone. She sounds like she's trying to make conversation, not confront her about something.

"I'm not one to kiss and tell, Quinn. You know that."

"I don't want to know about your sex life, Rachy." The new nickname Quinn's given Rachel sounds like molasses dripping off of her tongue. "I just want to know how you two are doing. There's more to a relationship than just sex. You of all people should know that, hmm?" She quirks an eyebrow, unable to let go of her signature snark even when trying to make light conversation with Rachel.

"Jesse and I are fine, Quinn. Granted, we haven't had the same amount of time together that we're used to, but it's fine. You know, half of a relationship is the nurturing you each need to apply to it so it can function reasonably. I'm sure you know – oh, wait, you don't." Rachel giggles maliciously to herself, smiling over the fact that she's managed to stick a fork in Quinn like she does to her.

"You're cute, Rachel," Quinn begins, walking over to her and sitting on the counter where Rachel has her script laid out before her. "But I'd wait before I speak about my 'perfect boyfriend' the next time someone tells you something about him."

Rachel quirks her eyebrow, confused. No one's ever spoken to her like this before. She feels like Quinn is trying to tell her something, but she doesn't know how.

"I don't know what you're saying," Rachel tells her matter-of-factly. "I've never said anything about Jesse being perfect, Quinn. No one's perfect." She really doesn't want to start an argument with the blonde right now. She's already weak enough already, and she doesn't want her hurtful words to cut through her weak little heart. It's already bruised enough as it is.

"You know, Berry, if you changed your tone, I would tell you what I want you to hear. Or, I guess, what you don't want to hear."

Quinn's tone and the way she words everything piques Rachel's interest. She normally tunes out everything she says that somehow manages to make her feel horrible about herself, but Quinn's managed to make her want to know more this time. She draws her in like a lioness about to pounce on her prey, Rachel playing the role of the small, timid rabbit.

"Rachel, you may want to sit down for this one. I mean, like, find a comfortable spot in your chair. I'm not going to be happy when I tell you this." Rachel rolls her eyes and returns her gaze back to the mirror.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep the unnecessary dramatic nonsense to a minimum. We've got a show in an hour and a half, and I'd like to maintain my spotless performance record." Rachel murmurs something incomprehensible under her breath, running a hand through her hair as she returns to look back in the mirror.

Quinn, on the other hand, can't stand her aloofness anymore. She bites down on her lip and walks up to the brunette, slamming a hand down on the countertop before her. Rachel jumps a bit and tugs on her hair, eliciting a painful squeal from the brunette's behalf.

"Look, Rachel, we're talking. Now. And you're going to listen. I think it's something that's pretty important to you."

"What?"

Quinn doesn't know how to break it to Rachel, because part of her doesn't want to. As much as Rachel irritates her beyond tolerance, she can't tell her in the regular bitchy tone she tells her everything in. Besides, it isn't worth it to see her cry over something like this. If she had a boyfriend that was such a piece of trash, she wouldn't want to know via someone she didn't like. Giving it to Rachel nice and slow seems to be the only option that she can see working out for the both of them.

Besides, Rachel isn't as horrible as Quinn pretends she is. She's a beautiful girl with a voice that makes everyone go weak at the knees. Maybe her diva attitude about everything is just part of her personality. Maybe she's insecure about herself and she has to compensate for her confidence with refusing to perform until her humidifier had fully performed to its ability, or until she had all of her vegan meals prepared for her and ready to go from the moment she stepped off of the stage after the curtain fell. Maybe her attitude has always been there because she's covering up for something else.

Maybe Jesse is the thing she's trying to cover up.

"Look, Rachel, I'm telling you this because I care about how you handle your relationships. I'm not demanding you to do anything, but I want to tell you, because I… well, you need to know."

Rachel looks at Quinn, furrowing her eyebrows before deciding to listen to her.

"Just tell me," she says curtly. "I can handle it, I'm sure."

Quinn rolls her eyes and sighs. She can't handle it anymore, which causes her to scream in an unplanned outburst.

"Your boyfriend tried to sleep with me!"

Rachel scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Please, Quinn. You don't have to try to psych me out right before a performance."

"Rachel, he tried to sleep with me. The other night, at Jitters? He came along. Jesse thought it would be cute to get fresh with me, so he tried. I had a few drinks and he did too, but I wasn't even drunk, Rachel. He came after me like I was a fucking piece of meat, Rachel. He just… came up to me and said that he wanted to sleep with me, and I asked him if he cared that he had you, and he told me that he didn't. He looked me right in the eye and said that he didn't care. And now…" Her voice trails off and she sees Rachel's face. She's pale, dropping everything that she had in her hands.

"I'm telling you this because I think that it's what you need to hear, okay? I'm not out to get you, and I'm not making this up. Your boyfriend's a jerk, Rachel."

Rachel can't feel her fingers anymore, everything on her going numb. She feels weak, like Quinn's just taken everything right out from underneath her and thrown it away. Her heart feels like it's stopped beating, her head spinning. She looks up at Quinn, who stares back at her with the same glazed over look that Rachel wears on her face.

"I'm sorry."

Rachel feels tears sting at her eyes, unable to look at herself in the mirror. She knew that Quinn was telling her the truth. She had never said anything to her that was so honest, cutting out all of the snarkiness from her tone. Besides, she wasn't even that great of an actress, so lying came to her more difficultly than it did to Rachel.

"Rachel, if there's anything I can do, I want you to let know-"

But Rachel stands up and stops Quinn before she can continue, feeling her tears roll down her cheeks. She finds her purse and wraps her scarf around her neck, hurriedly dashing past Quinn on the counter and making her way towards the door.

"What the hell are you doing?" Quinn stands and runs toward Rachel. "You're on stage in less than an hour, Berry. You're really going to let that prick ruin this for you?"

But Rachel doesn't respond. She can't respond. All she can think about is how she's always been wrong about everything. Everything she does turns into a mess, and this is only one more assurance to tell her that she's a screw up. She can't see straight and she stumbles a bit as she walks, but she finally makes her way out the door, wiping the tears away from her eyes, careful not to smear her makeup.

She still wants to see one more person.


	5. Rebound

Finn's busy flipping through the channels on his television set before he gets the call. Right before he settles on a rerun of _Friends,_ his phone lights up. It's become one of his favorite shows now, because it reminds him of Rachel.

Rachel wouldn't play Rachel Green, though. She's much more of a Monica in his mind. And Joey, maybe, but only because she's an actress. She isn't stupid. Rachel's the furthest thing from stupid.

Finn chokes on his beer when he reads the name on his phone.

Rachel Berry. He blushes internally a bit at noticing the small smiley face he's put next to her name. His fingers work to flip open the small phone, holding it up to his ear.

"Rachel?"

There are a few moments of tear-filled heaves on the other line, followed by Rachel's voice. It still sounds sweet, even through her tears.

"Can I see you?" She asks him like she knows that she's dialed the wrong number. There are no hellos, no friendly pleasantries. Rachel's normally all about manners, but not this time. She can't think of anything but what Quinn's just told her.

Finn still hasn't made the connection that Rachel's calling him, crying, wanting to see him. If he were with his friends and had happened to answer the phone on speaker, they would tell him that he needed to have this girl come over. Crying girls were always vulnerable, and vulnerable and broken girls were always the ones that were the easiest to have spread their legs for you.

And Finn had to admit that he had thought of it multiple times. Him and Rachel, Rachel and him. He wonders if she feels the same way about him at times, and it makes him go weak at the knees, just thinking about it. He feels like his feelings for Rachel are like the crush he had on Britney Spears when he was younger. He had posters of her in his room and thought she was attractive, but the chances of them becoming an actual couple were one in a million.

He did have things going for him with Rachel, though. She had his phone number saved in her contacts book. That was a step, right?

"Rachel, are you… are you alright? Don't you have a show tonight?" He pauses to think for a moment, realizing that it's not Monday. She's supposed to be on stage tonight. He wonders if something's wrong with her, and he feels his pulse quicken.

She sighs and whimpers into the phone a bit. "No," she finally admits, trying her best to hold back her tears. "I just… I need someone to talk to. I'm not performing tonight and I'm going to call and say that I don't feel well, but I want someone to spend time with. Please?"

Her voice is shaky and it makes Finn feel horrible. He doesn't even know what's happened to her, and all he wants is to make sure that she isn't crying anymore and that she's okay. Knowing that Rachel's okay will make him feel okay.

:.:.:

Santana can't believe she's doing this. She always knew Rachel Berry was beyond talented when it came to a proper storm out, but this is just taking it too far. Her fingers punch in numbers on her phone, grumbling something horrendous in Spanish that she knows her abuela would have a fit about if she heard her saying them out loud.

Rachel didn't. She couldn't have.

Her phone rings on the other end and the blonde picks up faster than Santana thought she would.

"Hello?" Quinn answers in her bright, perky voice. It only empowers Santana to take her down a few more notches.

"You're an asshole, Quinn. Actually, no, you're a fucking asshole who doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut. I should find you and kill you, Fabray. No, I take it back. I should find you, castrate you, let you walk around for a few days and enjoy the feeling of not having a vagina, and then kill you."

Quinn doesn't feel the pang of guilt in her stomach that she normally did when she had wronged somebody. She only knows this because she knows that she hasn't wronged somebody.

"She deserved to know, Santana. If your boyfriend were cheating on you, wouldn't you want someone to tell you?"

"I'm not in a relationship at the moment," Santana interrupts snidely. She doesn't swing in the direction of men, anyway. She finds them tall and disgusting and has realized that they can't keep up with her in the bedroom. She has had eyes for one of the girls in Rachel's show, Emery, but she isn't about to tell Quinn. Not now. Not to her, anyway. Quinn Fabray is a power hungry leech. "But if I was, I wouldn't want you to be telling me that my boyfriend was trying to suck face with you at a bar one night. Just picturing anyone trying to do that to you makes me want to throw up. You might have to teach me how to stick my finger down my throat, since I know you're pretty talented at that." She sighs deeply, furrowing her brow as she holds the phone to her ear and continues her way down the sidewalk. "Or, at least Rachel's told me."

Quinn rolls her eyes and continues to look into the mirror of her own dressing room, fluffing her hair with her spare hand. "I think she's going to be alright, Santana. I didn't tell her it in order to get revenge on her. If I wanted that, I would have slept with Jesse, wouldn't I?"

Santana's silent. Quinn's voice is calm, cool, collected. Like it's always been each time the two have spoken.

"She's gone now, though. I'm sure she couldn't have gone far, and is probably back at her apartment or something…why don't you just call her. See how she's doing. Tina's filling in for her tonight; she's already called." Quinn stops to giggle for a few moments. "She said she was diagnosed with a horrible 24 virus. She's an excellent liar, that's for sure."

Santana calms herself down after hearing the sincerity in Quinn's voice. "…So he came after you? Just like that?"

"Yes," Quinn says, ashamed. "I'm glad I was sober enough to know the difference. But I've known for a while. He's always been… _handsy._"

"I've actually been wanting to tell Rach for a while now, but I've always been afraid that she would never believe me… did she believe you?"

"It took some convincing."

Santana feels her heart swell a bit, a small smile slowly curling onto her lips. Maybe Quinn isn't as bad as she and Rachel make her out to be. The blonde who she calls the Dragon Lady in passing and has created a dark board dedicated to with Rachel that she and the brunette both throw darts at (steak knives only once when Santana was drunk) may not be as horrible as she makes her out to be. At least not right now.

"So are you going to do anything about it?" Quinn asks impatiently on the other line. Santana smiles mischievously and snickers into the phone.

"Let's just say that Jesse is going to get a little visit from my good friend Snixx the next time we see each other."

:.:.:

In any good Hollywood movie, the rain begins to fall the moment tragedy ensues. Which is why it comes as no surprise to Rachel when a lightning bolt tears across the night sky as she makes her way to Finn's apartment. He's given her directions and she understands them perfectly. From the moment she had moved to New York with Santana, she's known New York like the back of her hand. She calls it intuition, but Santana calls it craziness. Either way, locating Finn's apartment isn't too hard.

The rain begins coming down in buckets and she whimpers to herself, although she can't be too upset. The rain water mixes with her tears and it doesn't look like she's just been crying her eyes out to the people that pass her on the streets. It soaks her blouse and skirt down to her skin, the linens sticking to her chest and legs as she continues to walk.

_Life isn't fair,_ she decides angrily to herself. It's like all of the gods have decided to hit her with the reminder that she's never had a relationship with her mother, and then get her while she was down with the news of her boyfriend.

But then it is fair, when she thinks of how she's going to see Finn in a few minutes. The reporter who she simply thought of as cute when they first met was slowly becoming a friend – one of her closest friends. Not many of her friends knew about her mother. They would be shocked to know that both of them performed blocks away from each other each night.

She wonders what she must have done wrong to make Jesse cheat on her, and the tears return to her face. She's always known that Quinn's prettier, taller, thinner than she is. Some nights, when she was lying in bed with Jesse, she would roll to her side and ask him if he thought she was pretty, and he would tuck her hair back behind her ear and hold her close, telling her that she was the prettiest girl in the entire world.

Thinking back to that, Rachel now wonders how many other girls he's said those exact same words to.

:.:.:

Finn rushes around his apartment to clean everything up as best as he possibly can. What he originally thought would be a night in with himself, a six pack and a pizza has turned into the most beautiful girl in the world coming to his apartment. Half a pizza in the box gets thrown in the refrigerator, the leftover beers from the six pack getting set out on the fire escape. He checks himself in the mirror and adjusts his shirt, buttoning it back up again. He decides not to wear the tie.

He tries a breath check in the bathroom mirror and smiles to himself, trying to make himself seem confident.

The He-Man Douchebag Finn tells himself that he's got a gorgeous, desperate girl coming over in less than ten minutes who's going to want a rebound from her boyfriend that's been cheating on her – but the other Finn, the regular Finn tells himself that he's going to have to respect Rachel and comfort her. That she needs someone's words of encouragement and respect more than anything right now.

As usual, normal Finn wins.

There's a knock at the door and he flips the TV off, throwing the remote on the couch. It has to be Rachel; he's not expecting anyone else. To be safe, Finn peeks through the peephole to make sure that it's not a criminal.

Rachel's standing before him, wringing her hands and looking around nervously. He hopes she isn't afraid that she's ended up at the wrong apartment.

:.:.:

She tells him about how Quinn told her earlier, how she's got an understudy who's probably been dying to play her part and is overjoyed that she's gone tonight. Finn tries to follow her as she speaks, but he finds himself getting lost in her eyes. Even when she's been crying for what he's sure is hours, she still captivates him with her eyes, her hair, her smile.

"He told me that he loved me, Finn." Rachel begins to wail and falls against Finn's chest, causing him to sit up in shock. "He said that he loved and now… he doesn't. He loves her."

"It's going to be alright, Rach." He tries to soothe her and begins rubbing her back. At realizing how wet her clothes are, he's ashamed for not offering her a blanket upon walking in. Of course, she had been drenched from head to toe and didn't seem to mind from the moment she saw him. If she would have asked, he would have gotten it for her.

Rachel pulls away from Finn and looks up at him, eyes lobster red. "What would you do, Finn? You know, I mean, if your girlfriend cheated on you. And she told you that she loved you… what would you do about it?" She sniffles softly and Finn can't help but feel a smile break out across his face as he watches her wipe her eyes.

"I've actually had a girlfriend cheat on me before," he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Nicole Tomlinson, captain of the cheerleading squad. She told me that she loved me almost every day. She was even my first time." Finn stops, realizing that he's talking to himself. He changes his mind, however, when he looks down and sees Rachel staring back up at him, listening intently.

"Oh, my God, Finn, I… I'm so sorry." She feels guilt build up inside of her for being so selfish. She's been trying to teach herself to stop being selfish lately, but it hasn't been working. She's been trying to put others first and to think of the feelings of others before she speaks or does something, but it's hard. She's been so used to being so proud of herself and announcing it to the world that she forgets about others sometimes.

"What did you do?"

"I mean, for the first few days, it really stung. I was uncomfortable around girls and I was really afraid that they would all just cheat on me like my first girlfriend did, but you start to get over it." He looks down at Rachel, pushing some of her hair away from her eyes. "All it takes is a little push."

She shudders at the touch of his fingers against her cheek, staring up at him still. She knows that she's staring, but she can't help it.

"Jesse was my first, too. He said that he was going to love me until they day he died." She laughs lightly to herself, rolling her eyes. "I guess I wasn't the only girl who he said that to, hmm?" She laughs pathetically at herself, glancing down into her lap, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Finn. I shouldn't be doing this. Not here, at least. Not with you. You don't need to hear about all of my personal problems. I just… I want something to be right for once, you know? I want a boyfriend that loves me and a mother that knows I exist, and I –" She stops, catching herself. "I'm rambling again, Finn. I'm sorry."

Finn tries to suppress an eye roll, looking down at Rachel. "I don't mind," he admits. "Everyone needs someone to listen to all of their problems, and you just so happened to pick me. It's fine. I… kind of like you, Rachel."

Shit. He really didn't say that, did he?

Her entire face lights up as she looks at him. Her eyebrows unfurl and she appears happier, yet still inquisitive over his statement. Finn wants to run as far away from her as possible. He feels like a middle school student after telling a girl that she's pretty. Rachel's not supposed to know that. They're not supposed to be in a relationship. It would be wrong and unnecessary, and she probably needs time to bounce back from her old relationship, and she technically hasn't even broken it off yet, and –

She's kissing him. Not a peck on the cheek or even a peck on the lips, but she's really kissing him. Her hands move up to cup his face, holding him close to her lips so she can deepen their kiss. Finn thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest, his palms becoming sweaty as he feels her hands against his face.

She finally pulls away from their kiss, looking up at him. She feels ashamed; attacking him with a kiss like that. "I'm sorry," she stammers nervously. "I, I just… I like you too."

Finn laughs nervously to himself, moving his hand up to cup Rachel's face, stroking her cheek gently. "You don't have to be sorry," he coaxes her. "It's okay." He wonders if it's okay to tell her that he's been wanting to kiss her since the day they met, and if he would be crossing any lines by going back in and kissing her in return. Her lips are already red and swollen from the kiss she had given him seconds earlier, her hands fiddling with the hem of her blouse. It's wrinkled and still wet, and Finn wonders if he should ask her if she wants a blanket. She does look cold.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" She asks meekly, looking into his eyes. She feels her throat go dry and her hands clam up as they rest against his sweater. He's so soft and warm, and she's small and cold, and she wonders what it feels like to be wrapped up in his arms so he can warm her up.

Words are lost to him at the moment. All he can do is look into her eyes and hear his own heart race, sounding like it's beating its way out of his chest and planning to run away once it escapes. The way she stares into his eyes like a little lost puppy would, how she positions herself on the couch so that she's facing him in a little ball, looking at up to catch his eyes in her own because she's such a small girl.

Their lips crash into each other's once more, Finn taking his hand and resting it behind Rachel's neck to deepen their kiss. He feels like his head is swimming, his free hand aching to find the small of Rachel's waist and hold it to keep her steady. His fingers eventually find the grooves her ribs leave in her sides, the wet fabric of her blouse sticking to her skin.

He can't think straight by the time his hands are against her chest, fingers shaking as he finds the buttons to the garment that trail down the middle of her chest. It's like he's forgotten how to be a gentleman, sitting on the couch and trying to undo her clothes. She's moving in so she's closer to him, her fingers tracing across his shoulders as she pulls herself closer to him, the occasional whimper escaping her lips. It's the little noises like that that make him wish she wasn't here to begin with. Each time she shifts around in his arms he feels his pants tighten even more, and that's not supposed to happen. Finn's supposed to be able to kiss the girl with the lips he's been dreaming about kissing for the past week while keeping his cool at the same time, but he can't.

"Rachel, I can't," he finally says, his voice hitching a bit. He pulls away from her kiss, his arms falling down to his sides. "I can't do this to you. Not here. Not now, anyway."

She freezes, feeling her body go numb. He looks nervous, worried, like he's done something wrong. She wants to pull him back in for a kiss and be the confident girl she knows she can be if she tries hard enough, smothering him with kisses and telling him that everything's fine, that she doesn't mind when he kisses her. She wants his hand back around her ribcage, his lips pressed up against hers, his fingers deftly moving to open her blouse.

Her heart thinks faster than her mind does, however. She looks at him with desperation in her eyes, her lust out on display for everyone to see. "I don't care," she whispers delicately. "You can have me. Take me, Finn. Just for tonight."

He knows it's her heart speaking to her, telling her to get revenge for what Jesse's done to her. Finn knows the feeling all too well, he's been there before. He understands exactly how she feels; that newly found reckless abandon that makes you want to sleep with anything that moves, just so you can somehow stick it to the person who's cheated on you. She wants him as a rebound, and he wants her as something more, but he won't let Rachel learn her lesson the hard way. She's better off sleeping on his couch and waking up to a homemade breakfast he makes her tomorrow.

But he's a twenty five year old man. He's not going to think for the well-being of a girl at this point – at least, if he does, what his pants are concealing is going to do all of the thinking for him. She's sitting on his couch, wet blouse halfway undone, begging him to have sex with her. This is the same girl he's thought about countless times since meeting her, the same girl who he's wondered about and wanted for what seems like forever.

Before he knows it, his fingers are back to the buttons of her blouse, tracing down her dewy olive skin as she pulls the sticky garment from her chest.

:.:.:

He brings her to his bedroom and sets her down on the mattress, the rain still continuing. It patters against the window pane and the thunder rolls across the city, creating a cacophonous silence in the small apartment. Finn stands before Rachel as she lies on the bed, slowly undoing his belt as he looks down at her.

She's looking up at him with this glimmer in her eye, the lighting flashing across the room, bathing her bra clad chest in glowing white light. She's even more beautiful when she's lying like this; sweet and vulnerable and aching for his kiss, his touch. Finn pulls his shirt up over his head and crawls on top of her, kissing her neck sweetly. He elicits these soft, sweet little moans from her lips that drive him up the wall, and he attacks her with more tenacity. One lone whimper escapes her and he pauses for a moment, looking down at her, worry lacing his voice.

"Are you alright?"

She smiles sweetly and places a hand on the side of his face, pulling Finn close for a kiss. "I've never been better," she murmurs, her kiss sweeter than he's ever remembered. She cranes up towards him so he can unclasp her bra, watching her as she moves her arms to toss the undergarment to the side of the bed. He looks up at her in awe, trying his best to suppress his childish smile. The rain water leaves her skin sticky and soft, and he stares at her breasts, moving back up to kiss her once more. The noises she makes when he moves his lips across her chest push him to the edge, and he knows he has to stop, but he can't. She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and Finn wants to make sure that he can remember everything. For all he knows, this is the last time Rachel will let him do this. She's so fragile and broken right now, and her senses aren't straight. Her battered heart is what's making all of the decisions right now, not her brain. What he's doing is wrong, but he wants it so badly. So, so badly.

He doesn't remove her skirt, and instead moves his hands up her legs until finding the lace of her underwear, hooking his fingers around the elastic. She gazes down at him tenderly and runs a hand through his hair, her head falling back against the pillow of his bed. Her reactions alone make him so hard that it hurts, and he wishes he could see her face. He wants to look into those big brown eyes one last time.

She almost likes how he chooses to leave her skirt on; it leaves her with the mystery of what he's doing, her imagination left to wander with the touch of his hands. She's never let her emotions take her on such a rollercoaster ride before. Moments earlier, she was sitting on the couch with who she thought was her friend, and now she's lying in his bed, her clothes torn off in a wild abandon because of the way she feels about her boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend.

Rachel feels bad for taking advantage of Finn. She's using him, and she knows she is. But deep down, she can't help but feel that small little spark from a few days ago grow into a wildfire, spreading across her chest as she feels him kiss her lips, her neck, her breasts. She wonders if he wants to do this. If it's not just his hormones raging and not just his sex drive screaming at him to continue, then it has to be that he wants her back.

And God, does she want him.

Finn moves his fingers up around Rachel's hips, tracing a small shape around her protruding hip bones. She's so delicate yet he knows that she's strong; she can probably flip him over if she wants to. He tugs at her underwear until they're around her ankles – the same white lace as her bra. Her skirt's dried a bit from the rain, and Rachel gasps as she feels his fingers against her bare skin.

The only light in the room comes from the occasional flash of lightning, but Finn is still able to see how beautiful the girl before him is. "You're gorgeous, Rachel," he tells her, almost out of breath. He's had to catch it several times after seeing her and how stunning she is. She sits up on her back and uses her elbows to prop herself up to see him.

She doesn't want to talk much. Jesse used to tell her to be quiet when she started to talk when they were having sex, but that was probably why. They were just having sex. She never made love to Jesse, no matter how many times she told herself that she was. Sex with Jesse, she realizes, felt like she was a blow up doll, lying there with nothing do to. He never touched her like how Finn does, holding her close and making sure that she's comfortable before doing anything else. His touch is so gentle, so soft, and she never wants his hands to leave her.

Finn pushes his fingers past the seam of her, slowly inserting himself into her. Her gasp makes him sure that he's going to come in his pants.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks her halfheartedly. He's sure that she wants to now, and questioning her may offend her.

Rachel just smiles weakly, still caught up in her reverie from his fingers brushing against the sensitive spots between her legs. "I want you now more than ever," she whispers sweetly, her hand raking through his hair once more before falling back down to her side. Finn gives her a small smile and stands, removing his belt. Before she realizes it, he's shucked his pants and he's standing before her naked, how ready he is for her clearly visible.

"Take my skirt off," she begs, and he does as he's told, tugging at the loose fabric until he sees it pool around her ankles. The thunder crackles outside, but it's no match to the sound he's sure his heart is making as it races in his chest. Finn gets back up on the bed and hovers over her for a moment, ducking down to smother her in kisses. Rachel works just as hard to kiss him back.

"Condom." She breathes quickly, not wanting there to be any more time where their lips aren't touching. Finn reaches over to his nightstand, pulling the drawer open and finding one condom still wrapped in its foil package. He tosses it over on the bed and before he can maneuver back around to put it on, Rachel has it in her hands, already unwrapping it and holding the small ring of rubber between her fingers.

He lets her put it on, and God, it feels amazing, her small hands wrapped around his cock. She stares up at him with her eyes wide, like she expects the world of him, and when she's done she gives him this little nod, and he proceeds, slowly finding a comfortable spot on the bed. His arms snake around to support her back, his hips ratcheting into hers.

At first, all that come out are little breathy gasps, each one louder and more intense than the first. He looks down into her eyes and she looks back up into his, her eyebrows knit into what can almost be read as a worried expression across her face. Her lips fall into this pout and she whimpers his name as he continues, his thrusts becoming harder and harder with each moan.

"Oh, God, you're so good, Rach, so good…"

"Oh, yes… just like that."

"You're so perfect…"

Rachel feels like she's about to pass out. Nothing else matters to her anymore, like the world around her has fallen apart. Even the sound of the rain pattering against the window fades in the background. All she sees is Finn. Only Finn.

She feels her legs begin to quiver, knowing she's about to lose it. And then she feels like Finn can read her mind, because his hand drops down between her legs, his thumb rubbing tight circles around her clit. Rachel begins to feel the walls around her fall apart, her chest tightening as she feels that familiar churning sensation in her lower abdomen.

She begins to shake, the sight of her coming enough to make Finn blow his load right there. His face scrunches up into the regular pinched look it always does, spilling himself into the condom and feeling Rachel hold on to him for dear life, rolling her hips into his in a frenzy as she comes down from her high.

He kisses her forehead and she kisses his lips, holding herself close to him as she continues to kiss him. Now that she's started, she never wants to stop.

"Thank you," she whispers into his ear, pulling him closer for another kiss. "I… I really needed that. I needed you."

Finn smiles sweetly at her, looking into her eyes as she lies on her back, looking back up at him. He pushes her hair from her eyes and laughs a bit, placing a hand on her thigh. He can still see her through the dark of the apartment, peppering her with kisses until she swats at him playfully, giggling and resting her hands against his chest.

He doesn't know how to react to her, now that she's smiling and laughing. She seems to be okay, but he doesn't feel the same way anymore. He feels guilty, almost. He wonders if Rachel really wants to be with him, or if he's just the rebound; someone she can use to feel better about her situation.

The two lie down and Finn ushers her underneath the sheets, not touching each other as they fall asleep. People who are in love cuddle after sex.

They're not in love.

At least Finn doesn't want to think that they are.


	6. My Shooting Star

He was positive that she was doing it on purpose.

Finn had forgotten about how he had spent his night when he first woke up. There was that familiar feeling of shock when he first woke up, not bothering to open his eyes for a few moments. He began to stretch, and that was when he felt it.

It isn't often Finn can wake up to find a gorgeous girl next to him in bed.

And not just any girl, but the girl he's been thinking of ever since he saw her at the restaurant for her interview. Rachel Berry is lying next to him in bed, the comforter pulled up over her waist and covering her naked chest. She sleeps with this adorable little smile and her mouth hangs open a bit, dark hair fanned around her head in a halo. Finn smiles, unsure as to why he's smiling. On one hand, he's lying next to Rachel Berry, the Broadway star. The beautiful, leggy girl that he's had his eyes on since the day they've met, the girl that's so sweet and lovely to him. The girl that's opened herself up to him in so many ways, giving him insight to all of the little problems in her life.

That's what's on the other hand. His emotional connection to her has grown so much in the past few days – let alone the past few hours. He loves her, he wants her. When he looks at her sleeping, so at peace, the knots in his heart become untied and he feels like he's flying, even when he's stationary in bed. It's beyond her appearance now, even though it always has been. She's beautiful, but Finn's able to see that yes, she's beautiful, inside and out.

He kind of wants to hit himself for thinking that. It sounds like something that's straight from one of his mom's Hallmark movies.

And now she's lying next to him, making these soft little sighs each time her chest rises up and falls with each breath, and it's driving him crazy.

It makes him think of the noises he made come out of her the night before, and he's lying if he tells himself that he isn't totally turned on by just watching her sleep.

Then he realizes what he's thinking sounds disgusting, and he stops. He makes himself sound like some kind of creepy old man the way he thinks about her sometimes.

Finn notices her stir beneath his sheets and adjusts himself, beginning to clear his throat and prop himself up on his pillow, wanting to look like he hasn't been staring at her for the past ten minutes.

Rachel doesn't bother to open her eyes after she wakes up, finding herself to be too comfortable in her sheets and comforter, pillowed around her. Her eyes do flash open, however, when she realizes that these aren't her sheets. She has nice, soft white sheets, and these… aren't hers.

She isn't in her own bed, and it certainly isn't Jesse's. From the moment she's woken up she can remember the news given to her by Quinn from the night before, and she feels this deep pang of guilt in her chest. If she isn't in her own bed and she isn't in Jesse's, then she doesn't know where she is.

Rachel tries to walk through her night, not remembering any kind of drinks or anything of the sorts. She shifts beneath the sheets and realizes that her clothes are strewn across the floor.

Her memories hit her like a lightning bolt. Her and Finn. Kissing, touching, his breath hot against her neck when he peppered kisses down her chest.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Finn greets her, noticing her move beneath the sheets. She turns over to face him and she doesn't smile at first. Her face screws into a look of confusion and she's worried for a moment. Her eyes are heavy and she feels groggy, slowly beginning to feel some kind of shame crawl through her veins.

"Did we… did we sleep together last night?"

"Well, yeah," Finn says somewhat dumbfounded. He feels his heartbeat quicken and a sweat breaks out across his brow. Is she crazy or something? She was the one that wanted to sleep with him, and he warned her not to. It just didn't help that she's so beautiful, and that his own feelings began to lean towards hers, and-

Rachel looks up at Finn from her pillow, a small smile growing onto her face. She doesn't know what to say, but she knows how she feels. It's putting it into words that's beginning to be the hard part. She's reminded of how she spent her night wrapped up in Finn's arms, feeling him kiss her and fill her and make her feel like she's worth something.

"Good," she finally says, her voice croaking with sleep. She begins to rub her eyes and Finn laughs a bit, not expecting her to be so happy with her decision. For some reason he's waiting for her to spring from his bed and look for her clothes in a hurry, mumbling her regrets as she leaves the room. "I was worried you just spent the night."

She giggles sweetly and rolls over to her side, running her hand across his chest. Finn can't believe what's happening to him. Just the other day he could only imagine what it would feel like to have this small girl wrapped up in his arms and kissing her, and now it's the real thing. She's all over him like he's got the answers to the world on his lips. Maybe that's why she can't seem to stop kissing him. Since she's woken up, Finn can't remember a time when Rachel's lips haven't been attached to his.

"You aren't upset?" He doesn't understand why she's all over him now, holding on to him like he's going to let her go. Finn doesn't know what to think. He can't decide if it's right or wrong to reciprocate his feelings towards her. He can't tell if she's really happy or not. After all, she's an actress. She's supposed to be a great liar, isn't she?

"I couldn't be upset with you," she tells him, tracing a figure across his chest. "You made sure that I felt okay last night, and that's all I could ever ask for. It was very chivalrous of you, Finn."

Finn's face screws into a confused expression, looking down at Rachel lying against his chest. "Chivalrous?" He asks quietly, his own attempt at the word.

"You're a writer and you don't know what the word chivalrous means?"

"I guess it's never really come up."

"Chivalrous means that you're brave and polite," Rachel explains, shifting herself over so that she's looking into Finn's eyes, lying on her stomach. "You don't find too many guys that are like you, Finn Hudson."

_If I really were chivalrous, I wouldn't have slept with you, _he thinks as he looks at her. He can't help but smile at her, though. She doesn't seem fazed by the whole idea of their one night stand together.

He hopes it isn't left as a one night stand.

Finn smiles and runs a hand through Rachel's hair, pushing her bangs out of her eyes and cupping her face in his hand. She giggles and he smiles even wider, a childish grin crossing his face. In an instant, he remembers that the two of them are completely naked underneath his sheets, his hands running up Rachel's sides and pulling her close to him.

He begins to kiss her and she kisses him back, smiling and giggling as his lips travel down from her lips to her jaw, his tongue slaving down to her neck. Rachel tips her head back and mutters something under her breath, Finn unable to understand her. His hands move down her shoulders to her chest, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her up a bit on the bed so he can kiss her with more ease.

Rachel moans and runs her fingers through Finn's hair, turning herself back over so that she's lying on her back, Finn hovering above her. She doesn't want to think about how Santana would call her a slut for sleeping with someone to make herself feel better, or how horrible she knows that she'll feel when she has to leave and know that Finn isn't her boyfriend. When she's in his arms and she can feel him kissing her, she doesn't want to leave, not ever. She wants to kiss him and continue to lie with him in bed, feeling his hand run down the small of her back as he speaks to her.

She wonders if she's supposed to have actual feelings for him, even though she wants him to be a rebound. She knows that it's wrong to treat him the way she has, and part of her wants to make it up to him. Finn Hudson isn't an ordinary person, she knows that. She just doesn't know how to tell herself how to treat him like one.

Finn continues to kiss her, pulling the sheets down from around her shoulders and down to her hips, pulling her up a bit to support her back on the bed. She's beautiful; more beautiful now than ever. In the light of the storm Finn was only able to see flashes of her, most of her visible in silhouette. Now he can see her – all of her. She's stunning and he wants her to be his. Finn's terrified that she's not the girl he thinks she is. Maybe she's not the sweet, polite and honest person he sees her as.

His lips stop right below her right breast, looking up at her with a smile. "I never would have guessed that you would have a tattoo," he remarks with a smile. On her ribs to her right side is a sparkling gold star. Finn wonders why he was never able to see it the night before.

Rachel begins to giggle and rolls her eyes, blushing slightly. "Oh, God, stop," she murmurs, looking down at him with a smile. "That was an accident. Santana decided to take me out the night I found out I was cast in _Chicago _for drinks, and I had more than I should have…" she gasps as she feels Finn's lips against her skin once more.

"I like it," he tells her, kissing her hard enough around the tattoo to leave a sizeable hickey over the tattoo. "It reminds me of you." Rachel moves in the bed and sits up so she can lean against the headboard, Finn moving up with her, his lips not leaving hers.

"I love kissing you," he tells her, propping himself up on his elbows. "Please tell me that I don't have to stop soon." Rachel giggles sweetly and reaches for the sheet, pulling it up over her chest.

"I have a matinee today," she tells him, brushing a hand down the side of his face. "But I think I can squeeze you in somewhere." Rachel smiles sweetly and leans back up to kiss him, moving her hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer into their kiss. She doesn't want to stop kissing him either, the more she thinks of it. Finn's lips feel perfect against her own, his touch sending an electric shock across her body. She feels like it's wrong to want him, but the way he sets her pulses racing makes her want to pounce on him during every second of every day.

Finn smiles and stands from the bed, searching the ground and eventually stepping into his boxers. "You're going to be great," he tells her, noticing her as she continues to lie in bed. She's still the most stunning woman he's ever laid his eyes on; a five foot-two dream. "I don't think there's one performance you can give that's bad." Rachel springs up from the bed, not bothering to find her clothes and runs up to Finn, ambushing him from behind.

"How was my performance last night, then?" She asks teasingly, fingers dancing across his chest. Finn's eyebrows fly up on his face, and fuck, if he wasn't hard again by just the feel of her fingers against his bare chest.

"I don't think I'm going to tell you just yet," he tells her, looking down at her and pressing a kiss to her head. She giggles and the two smile, Finn wrapping his arms around her naked body. "When can I see you again?"

"Soon," she tells him, feeling his hands against her behind. "I promise."

:.:.:

"Do you know how many times I've tried to call you since last night?"

Rachel sighs and begins to grumble into the phone. "I had a rough night, San. It's not like you've never had one of those before."

Santana can't believe what she's hearing. Rachel hadn't bothered to talk to her for almost twenty four hours, and now she's missing in action. She's Rachel's best friend first, her manager second. Santana needs to know where she is before she gets abducted or something.

"Look, I talked to Quinn about what happened between you two. She told me all about your… conversation." Santana sighs deeply and holds her phone closer to her ear. "What, did you leave so you could go find Jesse and beat his ass? Because if you did, I've gained a whole new level of respect for you, Smurfette."

Rachel's afraid to tell her about what she had done. Telling her that she was just getting back home after sleeping with a reporter wasn't going to make Santana shut up any time soon. True, Santana has a past of having various sexual partners, but Rachel knows that she can't stand it when she decides to do the same thing. They go out to bars and if Rachel does so much as look at someone and Santana smacks her on the wrist as if to teach her a lesson.

"So where did you end up? I tried calling you at least fifty times and you never answered." Santana sighs and rolls her eyes through the phone. "Please don't tell me you went to Jesse's apartment and tried to make everything up to him like the last time when you sucked his-"

"Oh, my God, Santana, stop. Please." Rachel feels her heart begin to beat faster, wanting to ignore Santana's crass remark. "I just went home and turned my phone off. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone." She lies through her teeth. She's not going to tell Santana about her and Finn. She's never even met Finn, and she just refers to him as the reporter that is constantly calling her.

"I'm going to talk to Jesse for you. I don't care what you say. He has no right to walk all over you like that. You're better than him, Rach."

"Really," Rachel mutters softly. "I want to be with you. I want to see the look on his face when you stick it to him."

Santana half smiles to herself, finding Rachel's comment somewhat amusing. She normally isn't the type to want to get revenge on someone.

"You just let me know the time and place, Snow Pea. I'll be there. I promise."

:.:.:

The pieces of the article slowly begin to come together, formatted up next to the pictures of her that he had seen before. Now when he sees them he just smiles, because it's not something he has to imagine about anymore. All he thinks about now is how Rachel looks in his bed, lying underneath his sheets and looking over at him with that smile he can't forget.

"How's your article on the actress coming, Hudson?" Finn's editor ducks her head in through the wall into his cubicle, a smug look stuck to her face. "You know that I want it on my desk by this Wednesday, right?"

Finn makes a face and is a bit surprised upon seeing his editor standing before him. She's got eyes that can cut through steel and standards that not even the best writers can meet. "Yeah, um, I'm almost done. I met with her the other night, too, just to clarify some things."

"Well, I don't need you to take any more time off to clarify, Finn, I need you to finish the article. This girl can't be that interesting."

Finn wants to tell her the truth; how he's pretty sure he's fallen in love with the girl he's writing his article on. She's no longer just an idea for an article, and he's not just writing for her now, hoping to promote her performance so she can win her Tony award. The more he writes about her the more he's sure of his feelings. He loves her, and that's it. He doesn't know how he plans on telling her, and he knows that he can't now. She's technically still in a relationship with tat Jesse asshole. But he's going to tell her.

Finn's sure that he's fallen in love with the girl on the Chicago poster. Only this time, she's not just the girl on the marquee. She's much, much more than that.

"She's actually fascinating," he tells her, a snide look almost crossing his face. "And I'll have the article on your desk by tomorrow, even. I promise."

:.:.:

"I've missed you. Is that enough?"

Finn can't control his smile, even though he knows that Rachel is unable to see it. Even though she had promised him that she would be seeing him in the near future after their tryst, the closest they've gotten to actually seeing one another again is through phone calls, text messages and the occasional Skype date, only those are the rarest.

Rachel's spent the past forty five minutes discussing how she and Santana intend to get revenge on Jesse for cheating on her. Finn tries to listen intently to most of it, because he knows that Rachel will quiz him on what she's been talking about if she feels like he's not listening, but he can't help but feel proud for the girl all at the same time. She's taking a stand for something – with her friend, of course, but still. It truly makes him feel like she's building her confidence back up again, brick by brick.

"I've missed you too. Who would have guessed that a couple of days away from you would make me feel so lonely?"

Rachel rolls her eyes and smiles, wanting to see Finn so he can see the smile on her face. "You're not lonely, Finn. You're just exaggerating. It's not like you love me or anything."

And then she says it and Finn swears that he can feel his heart split in two.

What does she think this is, anyway? He's not going to fall head over heels for some girl and not give her all of the attention in the world. Rachel's special; he's not going to let her slip through his fingers. He loves her, and he knows that he does. He misses seeing her smile and holding her in his arms, but he doesn't know what she misses – if she misses anything in the first place. Finn still can't read into her reaction from the morning after sleeping with her. He can't decide if she was just saving face to make sure he didn't get embarrassed, or if she actually did like getting kissed by him.

His head spins as he tries to come up with a justifiable answer. "Well, I do miss you," he protests, his voice hitching a bit. Normally it's the girls that end up having this problem in relationships. Not that he and Rachel are in a relationship, but still. "You're my star, Rach. My little shooting star."

Rachel rolls her eyes at Finn's newly coined nickname for her. After she had showed him the tattoo she had gotten with Santana in a drunken mess, Finn seemed to be fascinated with it. She couldn't understand why, but it didn't matter. At least someone cared about her.

"You know, I need to come up with one of those dumb names for you. Something with 'doesn't know what chivalrous means' in it."

"Sounds a bit long, don't you think?"

The two laugh together, sighing simultaneously.

"When do I get to see you again, Rachel?"

The brunette pauses for a moment, hearing the sincerity in Finn's voice.

"Next Monday," she promises him, crossing her fingers although he can't see. "We can make Mondays our new nights together. Alright?"

"Just as long as you can keep up your end of the deal, Berry."

Rachel giggles, dropping her voice into a lower register and suddenly turning it into something much sexier than before. "Don't worry, Finn. Besides, I have an awfully good track record of keeping things up, don't I?"

He laughs as the phone clicks, and he's left with her horrible innuendo.

Somehow, he feels like everything's going to be alright.


	7. The Wrath of Snixx

**I just wanted to thank everyone for their reviews and support! Each one gives me more muse to write more. I promise that I'll be tying up some loose ends soon, but until then, enjoy the next chapter! I finally got around to writing the confrontation between Jesse and Rachel too, so I'm on my way – although this story is nowhere near being finished. :)**

Monday isn't coming fast enough. It's Sunday night, and Finn's busy paging through the channels on TV, unable to decide between the Jets game and the rerun of America's Funniest Home Videos. He finally decides on the game when a commercial with the Taco Bell dog sparks his attention, but before he can look to the TV, his phone lights up, buzzing across the coffee table.

_What are you doing?_

It's Rachel. His fingers can't move fast enough to reply to her, but he somehow manages without his message being laden with spelling errors.

_**Trying to watch TV. Why?**_

_No reason. I just really miss you. Are you alone?_

_**Yeah… why do you want to know?**_

At her own apartment, Rachel giggles wickedly as she sends out her next message. _No reason, I'm just all alone too. I'm not called to be at the theatre for a whole other hour, and I've got no one to keep me company._

Finn sighs, running a hand across his face. _**I can't go over there now, Rachel. I want to spend so much more than an hour with you.**_

_There are other ways we could be together right now, you know_. Her smile still hasn't bothered to leave her face. She's instigated her plan marvelously, and she doubts that Finn is going to turn her down.

_**What are you talking about?**_

_Call me. Now._

Rachel waits for at least four minutes, wondering if Finn knows what she's talking about and doesn't want any part of it. She plays with her hair and rubs her thighs together impatiently, waiting for her phone to light up. Finally she sees her phone begin to buzz and she answers it, her voice low and sultry. "I thought you had forgotten about me, Mr. Hudson."

"Never," Finn says, almost out of breath. Rachel decides that he knows exactly what she's talking about. "It just took me a while to get used to the idea that you wanted to… do _this._"

Rachel lets out a little giggle and continues to toy with her hair, smiling although Finn can't see her. "I'm glad you're excited about it," she groans into the phone. Her voice is so devastatingly teasing that Finn feels like he's going to lose it right there in his pants. "What are you doing right now, Finn?"

"Trying to keep myself under control after picturing you touching yourself." A blush breaks out across Rachel's face, never expecting to hear Finn say something like that to her.

"What else?" She asks him saucily. She adjusts herself on her couch and Finn swears that he can hear her and picture everything she's doing just by the sound of her shifting around on the couch through the phone.

Finn can't help but break the awkwardness between them already by becoming even more awkward. He's never been the most 'comfortable' with girls, and the fact that Rachel seems to be so forward and comfortable with him only makes him feel more uncomfortable. He lowers his voice and tries his best to hold back his stammer.

"Wait, Rachel, do you… do you really want to do this?" Finn's never even had a girl propose the idea of phone sex to him, and now he has Rachel's proposing that they do it right now, when she has to be at a show in a couple of hours. It surprises him how forward she is, and how she doesn't seem to want a relationship. She's so careless with him almost, like he's just a friend with benefits. Maybe that's what they'll end up as. Finn can call Rachel when he feels like it and she can come over and they can have dinner together, followed by a friendly romp in the sack. That's what they do in all of the movies when there are friends with benefits, anyway.

"Do what, _this?_" Rachel furrows her eyebrows and stares into the phone like Finn can see her. "Of course I do, Finn. I miss you and this is the next best thing to seeing you. Please?" The way she makes her voice sound like a sweet little whine makes Finn unable to control himself. He wants to see her and pounce on her and smother her with kisses, she's that perfect.

He sighs deeply and runs his hand across his face, feeling some kind of stress set in. "I'm fine waiting until tomorrow to see you," he says confidently. "Besides, that will just make tomorrow that much better. I miss you, Rachel."

"I miss you too, Finn. I lo- I mean, I'll see you tomorrow, Finn. Bye."

Finn's head begins to spin. Did she really just almost say that she _loved _him? They've only known each other for a little over two weeks now, and she's about to tell him that she loves him? He wants her to feel that way about him. After all, he loves her, he's sure of it. There's no one else he would rather love other than Rachel Berry right now.

:.:.:

Monday comes and goes like a strike of lightning. Finn takes Rachel to dinner at this small Italian place in Little Italy, feeling sorry after he watches her have to order the salad off of the small menu since there are no other vegan options for her. She just smiles and tells him that she'll be fine, pressing a kiss to his cheek after he tries to offer to take her somewhere else for dinner.

She doesn't refuse to hold his hand as they walk down the streets of the city, her fingers tightly wrapped up in his. Finn loves how she's so short and he can look down at her when they walk next to one another, how she seems to like to rest her head against his chest as they make their way back to her apartment. She's insisted that they go to her apartment this time instead of his, because she wants to show him what her apartment looks like and constantly tells him that she'll be willing to make him dessert and coffee if he chooses to stay.

Rachel feels her heart race faster with each step she takes down the street with Finn. She's been put in the best of moods today, out of all days. Today's the same day that her and Santana had chosen to confront Jesse, putting a different spark in her than usual. When she returns to her apartment and sees Finn, all she can tell him about is how Santana managed to tackle her problems for her.

:.:.:

"_You just tell me what his apartment number is, Rach, and I'll beat his ass. I always carry a pocket knife taped to my underboob just in case problems like this ever come up." Santana and Rachel walked up the staircase to Jesse's apartment, Rachel following behind Santana dutifully. "You just watch, Babs. I'm going to kick that douchebag's ass so hard, he won't be able to shit properly for at least a month."_

"_Santana, I don't want you to injure Jesse. I just… I want you to teach him a lesson." The way Rachel spoke made her sound like she just wanted to make amends to Santana's ears. The Latina wanted revenge, and she wanted it now. No one was allowed to step all over her Rachel like that and get away with it. Rachel was like her property, only she didn't treat her like she was. _

"_I hide razorblades in my hair for a reason, Berry." Santana rolled her eyes and balled her hands up into fists, gesturing towards the door in front of her. "Is this one it?" Rachel nodded and stood behind Santana as she rammed on the door angrily._

"_Hey St. James, open up. I haven't got all day and I've got to tell you something. And don't think I'm waiting, because I'm not. I learned how to break a door down when I was nine."_

_Rachel stood behind Santana at the door, nervously fingering the sleeve of her blouse. She didn't know if she should be proud and happy for having a friend like Santana to defend her, or if it would come back to get her in the end. She remembered the things that Santana would do to girls she despised on the cheerleading team in high school when she didn't get her way, or even when the slightest thing got her upset. Santana was ruthless, and while it was something horrible to have if you were up against her for the position of head cheerleader back in high school, it somehow seemed to pay off now. Santana was the only person who could do something like this, and she knew it. Rachel didn't have the courage or the guts to do anything like this._

_Jesse opened the door with a shit eating grin stuck to his face. "Well, if it isn't Rosie Perez," he commented snidely, noticing Rachel standing behind her. "Babe, why are you over here with her? I thought we agreed that she wouldn't be bothering us anymore?"_

_Rachel began to open her mouth to speak, but Santana beat her to it. "Yeah, see, that's the thing, St. Douchebag. Word on the street is you've been stuffing your Hickory Farms sausage in the baskets of girls other than Rachel, and I've got a problem with that." Rachel stifled a giggle from behind after hearing Santana's words. "And while you and Smurfette doing anything that requires lube and a prayer makes me want to throw up, there's no reason for you to think it's cool to fuck around with other girls. So, you have three choices. One, you leave Rachel the fuck alone and never try to talk to her again, two, you shut the fuck up and never talk about this ever happening, or three, you can go ahead and be a dickwad for the rest of your life. Your choice."_

_Rachel stood behind Santana and puffed her chest out proudly, looking at Jesse with a sneer._

_Jesse just looked surprised, like he had seen a ghost. "Wait, hold on. Rachel? Are you serious? You're… breaking up with me?" Rachel just nodded proudly, feeling her voice hitch in her throat._

"_All you've ever done is treat me like shit, Jesse. It's about time I do the same to you."_

_Part of her wanted to tell him how she had already found someone else in her life – someone she thought she was falling in love with. She had already slept with him and called him yesterday with the hopes to have phone sex with him, of all things. She would never do any of those things with Jesse. With Jesse, she had felt a spark. But sparks quickly faded away. When she was with Finn, it was like a wildfire had started in her heart._

"_So, Steven Sondheim, if you'd gladly move away, I'd like to take Rachel into your godforsaken apartment so she can collect her things." Santana pushed past Jesse like he was part of a saloon door, walking into his apartment like she owned it. That was one thing about Santana that Rachel liked so much; she wasn't afraid to get exactly what she wanted. _

_Jesse just looked at Rachel in shock, watching his little plan of getting away with making passes and sleeping with other girls in her cast unravel before his eyes. Rachel followed in after Santana, eyes scanning for her things. Before she could get too close to the other brunette, however, Jesse stopped her and spun her around by the shoulder. Rachel felt her breath catch in her throat as she faced him, her eyes meeting his._

"_You can't be serious about this," he grumbled angrily. His voice suddenly turned apologetic, looking into Rachel's eyes and brushing her hair away from her face. "Come on, Rach. It was just a little mistake what happened with Quinn, I promise. I was drunk. Do you really think I'd give you up for someone like Quinn?" Rachel looked down in disgust, feeling her heart beat out of her chest._

"_I am," she said quietly, nearly whispering. "I'm done with you and all of this." Rachel tore from his hands and walked up to Santana who covered her with a protective arm over her chest the moment she felt the small girl run up to her. "I don't deserve you, Jesse, and no one should." Surprisingly enough, Rachel didn't begin to cry. She didn't feel sad, she felt empowered. She had stuck it to Jesse, and she had stuck it to him good, just like how Santana had said they would. Nothing had felt better to her than right now. _

"_I want all of my things back," she demanded, noticing that Santana had found an empty cardboard box. "All of my movies and my clothes and everything else that I have here."_

"_If you decide to keep anything, I'll just tell everyone that you're gay," an angered Santana piped from behind her. "It's not like anyone wouldn't believe me. You're in love with Bette Midler for fuck's sake."_

_The girls moved around the apartment quickly, finding all of Rachel's belongings and throwing them into the box. Santana found what she thought was one of Rachel's bras and made some kind of snide remark, throwing it in the box along with the rest of her things._

"_I hope it's fun being a single ass wipe that isn't dating the second hottest girl in New York right now," Santana told Jesse as her farewell. "But hey, look at the bright side. Now you can come out of the closet and let the world know that you like the feeling of anyone sucking your cock, whether it's a guy or a girl. Hooray." She applauded sarcastically and walked out of the door, Rachel following behind her._

_Rachel gave him one lasting look before shutting the door, Jesse's face a strange mixture of anger and confusion._

"_I'm sorry you messed this up so much, Jesse. Really." _

_And with that, she closed the door, she and Santana headed back with all of her things. _

:.:.:

"Can you believe it?" Rachel asks, looking at Finn with a surprised look on her face. "She just got him to do everything she wanted from him. I wish I could be all confident like her."

Finn laughs a bit, pushing Rachel's hair from her face so he can see her eyes. "I think you're confident," he says, holding her closer to him on the couch. Her couch is so comfortable and soft, softer than his. Everything about her is soft, light, practically untouchable. She's lovely and wonderful, and he wants to attack her with kisses right there. "You're great, Rach."

Rachel smiles and holds Finn's hand over her waist, where he's had it now for the past few minutes. He likes to tickle her between the ribs and she stops him, not wanting him to cause so many giggles to come out of her at once. She likes the feeling of his hands over her, and not in the way that they would be if she were with Jesse. He holds her like he cares, not like he's trying to cop a feel. He holds her with purpose, not with the hopes that he's going to get some.

The way he touches her and the way he kisses her makes her wonder why he's treating her this way. He really doesn't have a reason to, and it makes her feel like she's going to explode. Her skin's on fire, her lips tickling with the urge to kiss him again. Maybe he's supposed to treat her this way because he treats all of the girls he interviews like this. He sleeps with them and kisses them and treats them like they're worth something so he can get laid.

But maybe he's not, because she doesn't catch on to it right away. He's subtle; like he doesn't want her to know. She likes the subtle touches and the kisses and she wants him, she realizes. Wanting him feels so wrong, but so right, clichéd as it sounds. He's writing a superb article about her in the newspaper, and she's sleeping with him. Part of her feels like she's such a scandalous girl for sleeping with the man praising her in public, like it's supposed to be a secret. It's not like their sex makes his opinion of her performance on stage any different, however.

"You're not too bad yourself," she says, looking up at Finn before craning her neck to kiss him. Even if she can barely reach his cheek, he dips down and kisses her in return, capturing her lips in his own. Her hand reaches up to pull his face closer to her and he falls on top of her, pushing her down onto the couch and pinning her underneath him. She refrains from kissing him for a moment, biting her lip and looking into his eyes.

"We can always go to the bedroom," she suggests, resting her hand on his shoulder. "I'd like to see how your mattress compares to mine."

Finn smiles at her comment and kisses her once more, sweeping her up in his arms and directing her to the bedroom. He doesn't know how he's managed to get a hold of the most beautiful girl in the world, but he has, and he doesn't want to let her go. He's never been with anyone that's so dynamic as Rachel Berry. She's the loveliest girl to ever grace the earth.

Rachel can't keep herself from kissing him as she pounces on him after he throws her on the bed, feeling his fingers work for the zipper of her dress before she can even reach the hem of his shirt.

And then, for what seems like a fleeting moment, Rachel Berry wonders if this is what love feels like.


	8. Amazing

Everything is out of order. The mail hasn't been picked up yet from her mailbox down in the lobby, and her plants haven't been watered. Nothing in her apartment is the way it normally is the morning – sun shining through her kitchen window, the smell of her brewing coffee pot wafting through the bedroom and into the living room, the bright, almost tinny sound of her television ringing through the apartment. She hasn't left her bed since she's woken up.

Of course, that's because she and the man she's been sharing her bed with have been more _preoccupied _with other activities.

Rachel has her legs curled around Finn, his hand gripping her by the waist. She looks down at him and her eyes looks like they're on fire. He can't get enough of her, and they've been at it from the moment they've woken up. She rides him harder than she ever has before, her face turning red, beads of sweat beginning on the top of her forehead.

She begins to feel herself fall apart, looking down into Finn's eyes as she feels her chest tighten and her stomach churn. Rachel can't understand why sex feels so good when it's with Finn. It doesn't feel the same way like it does when she was with Jesse – and she's never known any better. If she thought sex was good before, she thinks that it's astronomically better now.

And at the same time, as she sits in his lap and slowly begins to whimper and fall apart in his grip, she looks into his eyes and wonders if her feelings from the night before are even relevant now. There's something about Finn that she just can't put her finger on – it's in his smile, the way he talks to her, the way he holds her and tells her that everything's going to be alright. That and, of course, the time they spend together like this, not knowing where one body begins and the other one ends. She wants to dip down and kiss him, but before she can she feels the sharp knot of electricity explode inside of her, causing her eyes to fly open and an unbridled moan to escape her lips.

Finn quickly comes after her, the sight of her losing control making him lose control as well. He holds her tighter, his fingers finding the grooves her ribs leave in her waist. He's managed to still leave his hickey over her tattoo, bright and red and stamp that lets the world know that she's his.

Part of him is unsure if she is his, though. He still doesn't know if she wants this for the same reasons he does, or if it's just convenient. Finn knows that Rachel's beautiful – she could have whatever guy she wanted that walked past her. And yet she lays her eyes on him, gangly, awkward, sometimes uncomfortable Finn Hudson. Maybe it's an experiment she's conducting to see how many guys she can sleep with now that she's single.

That wouldn't explain her plan of setting aside each Monday night for the two of them. He doesn't know if she thinks that they're dates or not, but it doesn't seem to matter. She wants to be with him no matter what.

Rachel rides the waves of her orgasm until she collapses in Finn's arms, running her hands down his back and touching every square inch of him that she can, like she doesn't want to let him go. They tumble over in to the bed and she looks at him, eyes dark and wide, lips swollen and red. Her sex hair from last night mixed with her bedhead is even sexier now, Finn thinks as he looks at her lying on top of him. He moves a hand up to place an errant curl behind her ear, eliciting a small smile from her.

"You're amazing," she tells him, catching her breath and rolling over on to her side so she can lie next to Finn. He looks at her and smiles, finding everything that she does fascinating. His eyes divert to the alarm clock she has on her side table, however, and he notices the time.

"I'm late for work," he groans, trying to hop from bed. He can't miss work. He's got too many deadlines to meet, too many things he has to take care of. That and his editor will kill him if he shows up late or worse – doesn't plan to show up at all. "I'm sorry, Rach, I've got to go-"

He stops speaking the second he sees what Rachel's doing. He's lost his train of thought completely, mouth probably hanging open and hitting the floor. She looks up at him and bites down on her lip, her hand slinking down between her legs, the other reaching up to her chest and beginning to palm her breasts.

_Rachel's touching herself, _he thinks, the only thought able to race through his brain. Her eyes are dark and heavy, looking up at him through her dark eyelashes to meet his eyes. He sees her slip her fingers around between her legs, pulling them up to lick them clean.

He's going to lose it all over again if she doesn't stop.

"Please stay, Finn," she tells him, removing her fingers from her mouth. "I want to give you something." She parts the seam of herself once more, moaning softly at the contact of her fingers to her skin. "Please?"

He can't handle it anymore. His job can wait. He has a gorgeous girl begging for him, touching herself, right in front of him. He can't see many opportunities like this coming up at any point in his future. Why does everything in his life have to be so unfair?

Finn practically leaps back into bed with her, not bothering to contemplate his choices. His job can wait; he can easily call in when this is all over and say that he's too sick to show up to work. Of course, if this never decides to end, then he could be in a real problem. He cranes his head over to kiss her, her fingers still moving rapidly between them. He moves his own hand down and touches her himself, causing her to make even more noise. He didn't know that he could build up to completely losing it again so quickly after he had already lost it inside of her. She's so wet it drives him crazy, desperately wanting to thrust into her one more time just so he could feel the tension that's slowly been building all morning finally collapse. Rachel obviously has other plans, however. She moves out from underneath him and Finn turns over, sitting up a bit.

"Do you remember the first time you met me?" She asks, running her hands down his thighs. Just her touch is enough to make him twitch and shiver. He has no self-control whatsoever, he realizes, and he doesn't want to ruin anything with Rachel.

He nods his head quickly, unable to take his eyes off of her. She looks at her and smiles viciously, pressing kisses to the inside of his thighs. He lets out a hiss and she giggles, lips buzzing against his skin.

"Did you want to fuck me back then, too?"

He doesn't understand her question right away, all of her words just turning into a mess by the time the words reach his brain. "I've always wanted to fuck you," he confesses, unable to take his eyes off of her. "You're so fucking hot, Rach."

She giggles and licks the shape of his hip bone, causing his hips to buck up a bit.

"Did you ever think of me in your bedroom, Finn? Did you stay up at night thinking of how it would look when I rode your cock? Did I drive you crazy, Finn?"

He can't begin to fathom how hot she is right now. All he sees are her lips, moving slowly as she talks, imagined them doing horrible things. She could do horribly wonderful things with her mouth, he realizes.

"I want specifics, Mr. Hudson." She licks her lips and begins touching herself again. "You are a reporter, aren't you?"

"I can't… I can't think," Finn confesses, eyes pinching shut. "Please, Rach."

"Poor baby."

Finn can't take it anymore. Rachel looks at him and giggles saucily, lying down on her stomach and letting one finger graze up his length. He shivers and he can't think, like his entire brain's just cleared out everything he's ever learned. All he can think of is how close Rachel's mouth is to his cock, and how great her mouth would feel wrapped around it. "Tell me what you want, Finn," she whispers, licking her lips.

"Your mouth."

Rachel giggles and wraps her palm around his cock for a few seconds, looking him in the eyes and smiling mischievously. She knows exactly what she's doing, and it drives Finn crazy. "Fuck, Rach, I can't…" He can't lose it again like this. He can't embarrass himself like this.

She smiles and wraps her mouth around the length of him, taking her hand around him at the same time, eyes looking up into his. He feels like he's going to fall apart, the idea of maintaining any kind of self-control completely out the window. The way she twitches her mouth up almost in what looks like a smile, how she seems unable to stop taking him further and further into her mouth. It's almost like she doesn't have a gag reflex, the thought of which sends his mind spinning. She really is perfect, isn't she?

Rachel lets her tongue slip out and she licks him from tip to base, minding that she covers each square inch of him. She runs her tongue up and down him more until she sees his hips begin to buckle, which causes her to hollow her cheeks and begin to suck on him again, taking further into her mouth than she had earlier. She removes herself from him for a moment, licking her lips.

"Do you want me to sing for you, baby?" Finn's confused, but he's so entranced by Rachel that he just nods slowly, eliciting a small giggle from her. She bends down so that she's between his legs once again, wrapping her lips around his length and this time taking him to the back of her throat, a wanton wail of pleasure escaping Finn in the process.

"Fuck!" He yelps, feeling her throat clench around him. He has to be dreaming. This is too good to be true. He doesn't even think what she's doing is even possible to do, but if anyone can do it, Rachel Spielberg can.

While she has him nearly down her throat she begins to hum, alternating between low, slow rhythms and fast, higher ones, causing him to lose it for her right there. She watches his hips ratchet up in agony, his face pinching into the familiar face that he makes when he's been pushed over the edge, the face that she knows so well now. The vibrations make him feel like he's going to explode and he does, throbbing while still inside her mouth and coming harder than he thinks is even possible. Rachel just looks up at him through her dark eyelashes and swallows, daintily wiping her mouth off as she raises herself up to her knees.

"Shit, Rachel," Finn says, still catching his breath, palming himself lightly. Rachel notices his hand moving up and down and swats it away, taking the task onto herself. She straddles him and takes him in her hand, smiling almost innocently. He feels like he's going to grow hard again now just by looking at her, feeling her hand wrapped around him and her wetness pooling beneath him on his legs.

"That was crazy," he says, still unable to think. "You're amazing." Rachel giggles and falls back into herself, the whole sexy façade almost leaving her for a moment. She wants to start keeping track of how many times he's called her amazing since meeting him. She could fill a novel with the amount of times Finn's called her amazing.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. She still has that same mischievous twinkle in her eye, which is coming to closer and closer to being Finn's favorite thing about her. "I've never really received any negative feedback for… well, doing _that._" She smiles and rests both her hands on his chest, drumming her fingers against him.

Finn holds a hand to the small of her waist, feeling her ribs rise and fall with each breath. "I just want to stay with you like this all day."

"What about work?"

"I'll call in and say I'm sick. I can have all day to spend with you." Rachel giggles and he smiles back up at her. "it would be the best day off I've had in a long time."

She looks down at him, wondering if he's being serious. He actually wants to take his day off from work so he can spend time with her? He must be crazy, she thinks. No one's ever wanted to take work off or cancel their plans just so they can spend time with her. Santana hasn't even done something like that.

"You want to spend time with me?" She asks, touching her hand to her chest. It's enough to bring Finn's eyes back down to stare at her boobs, but not enough to completely distract him.

"Do you see any other gorgeous girls sitting on top of me right now?" He asks, causing her to laugh. "I really like you, Rachel. I mean, I know we've kind of just met and all, but you're… you're really fun to be around. You're not like most girls."

There's a moment of silence and Finn sees Rachel look down at the floor, an ashamed look almost covering her face. She looks upset the more time words aren't spoken between them.

"What are we, Finn?"

"What?"

"I mean, what are we? We met some time last week, and now we just have convenient sex. I know I just broke up with Jesse and everything, but I don't… I want to know how you feel about us before I make the wrong decision."

Finn feels his stomach drop. "Rachel, what are you talking about?"

She adjusts herself in his lap a bit, looking more worried by the second. "I just… last night, Finn, when we were out together, it was the first time I had ever really felt that way about anyone. I didn't want to say anything to you about it, because I thought you would think I was crazy, but last night…" She can feel tears building up behind her eyes, her throat closing up a bit. "Last night was the first time that I felt like I was falling in love with someone – and that it actually meant something."

Finn can't hear himself think. Did she just tell him that she loved him? Maybe it was in a weird, beat around the bush kind of way, but she said that she felt like she was falling in love with him. He can see how her eyes begin to glaze over with tears, watching as they roll down her cheeks. Finn sits up and places a hand to the side of her face, looking into her eyes.

"You're falling in love with me?" He asks incredulously. Rachel looks away, ashamed.

"I know, I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry, and I just-"

Before she can continue speaking, Finn pulls her closer to him, consuming her lips with his. She can't find anything to say or do, wanting so badly to continue kissing him. Her hands move up to rest on his shoulders, fingers linking together at the nape of his neck. She can't kiss him back just yet; her lips frozen from his attack. Finn pulls away and looks at her, lips swollen from his kiss.

"I love you, Rachel. I love you and I love everything about you." He pauses, pushing her hair out of her eyes and stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I mean, I know we've just met and all, but I love you, Rach. I don't just want to be with you like that douchebag was, or any other guy. I just want to be with you because I love you, Rachel. You're perfect."

She notes how he calls her perfect again. Maybe she will start a notebook that keeps track of how many times she does after all.

She feels her tears run down her cheeks, Finn attempting to kiss them away. "DO you really mean that?"

"Of course I do. I would never lie to you, Rachel. You don't deserve it."

She leans back in to kiss him, smiling. Rachel falls onto his stomach and continues to kiss him, causing Finn to lie down and kiss her in return. She's never loved kissing someone so much; the way he holds her and how her lips seem to fit perfectly against his. Maybe it is right to love him after all.

"Then I do love you," she says after a while, resting her forehead against his. She's never felt this way about someone after only knowing them for about a week. "Is it okay if I love you even if we've just met?"

Finn laughs and stokes Rachel's hair. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"Good," she says confidently. "Because I love you, Finn Hudson."

:.:.:

She does end up making him breakfast and he does end up calling in and feigning sick, pretending that he has a congested nose and cough over the phone. It musters a laugh from Rachel as she's busy making him the omelet she hopes he doesn't realize is made with egg substitutes instead of actual eggs. He thinks it's unfair that he has to wear his boxers and her old NYU hoodie while she traipses around in a little pink robe that barely reaches her knees.

"You know, if this whole Broadway thing doesn't work out, I think you should be a chef," Finn comments, almost unable to stop shoveling food into his mouth. Rachel laughs and sips her coffee, shaking her head a bit.

"I find out today, actually. Santana's supposed to call and tell me if I've been nominated." She sees Finn quirk an eyebrow as he reaches for his orange juice. "The Tony, I mean. I find out if I've been nominated today."

Finn remembers that his article on her is being published the next day. He can already see the next article he writes about her in his head; his words of praise surrounding a picture of her holding and kissing the little silver statue clear as day in his head.

"There's no doubt that you will be, Rach. You're amazing."

She giggles after noticing that he's said it again. "Yeah, but you never know until you know, right?" She pauses, laughing and making a face at him as he laughs with her. "By the way, you've called me amazing at least twenty times today."

"Well, yeah. I mean, you gave me the best good morning I've probably ever had, and then made me breakfast? I don't know what other words would describe you, Rachel."

"Beautiful."

"Yeah, well, you-"

"Smart."

"Sure, you're really smart, Rach-"

"Sexy."

"I don't think you even need me to tell you that one."

The two smile and Rachel stands, smiling at the image of Finn sitting in his boxers and her sweater from college. She still swims in it, but it looks amusing on him, fitting him almost too well. "Remind me to thank you in my acceptance speech," she asks him, collecting her clean plate and walking it into the kitchen. The second she flips the handle to the faucet up, her phone begins to buzz on the coffee table in the living room. Elton John's The Bitch is Back fills her apartment and she drops her plate in the sink, scurrying to pick it up.

"San?" She can feel her heart beat out of her chest. This is probably the best news she can ever receive – or the worst.

"Well, pipsqueak, you and I have a lot of talking to do," Santana says nonchalantly. "I mean, we're going to have to make sure that neither of us is wearing the same dress, or plans to go with the same guy, or does something stupid –"

"Santana, will you just tell me?"

"Well, I would say 'pack your bags,' but since you can't…"

Rachel feels her frustration and anxiety bubble up inside of her, looking at Finn and making a face. He just looks at her and smiles, unable to find words to tell her. He's just as much on the edge as she is, wanting to know what Santana's response is. Rachel drums her fingers against her side, tugging at the tie that keeps her robe wrapped around her body. Part of him wants her to accidentally tug too hard at the piece of satin and have it fall down to the floor after her remembers that she isn't wearing anything underneath it, but he stops himself. Finn has to remember that this isn't about him, it's about her. Her and her Tony nomination, not about how hot she is.

"Really? Oh, my God – when did you find out?" She giggles and does a little dance to herself, causing Finn to smile. She's got it, he knows she does. She runs up to him and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. Rachel tries to continue to hold the phone to her ear, Santana still on the other line.

"You have a luncheon to go to, though." Rachel feels her jaw drop, causing Finn to look at her like she's crazy. She swats at him and focuses on her phone and conversation with Santana.

"What?"

"A luncheon, for all of the nominees? You know, you and the rest of the girls go out to lunch at Sardi's and take a shit tone of pictures. You can bring a date, too, but you don't have to. I could always go with you."

"San, I don't want to… I don't want to go. I mean, I do, but-"

"Oh." Santana says, realizing what's wrong. "It's your mom, isn't it?"

Rachel nods, thinking that Santana can see her. "I don't want to talk about it now." She looks at Finn, his face turned into a look on confusion. "Can I call you back, San? I promise, it won't take long." Finn looks at Rachel and watches as she hangs up her phone, setting it down on the coffee table. She just looks like she's going to fall apart.

"What's wrong?" He asks, feeling her lose herself in his arms once more. He tightens his grip around her and brings her closer to him, feeling her head rest against his chest. "I thought you were nominated?"

"I am," she says, choking on her words. "I just… I have to go to this luncheon thing that all of the nominees have to go to, and my mom's going to be there, and I-"

Finn holds Rachel's head close to him and strokes her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Everything's going to be alright, Rach. I told you that it would, remember?"

Rachel just nods and chokes back her tears. "I know, but I just don't want to have to handle that now, you know? I thought that everything would be perfect, and now… it just isn't, and I want it all to stop."

Finn looks down at Rachel, feeling horrible. He doesn't know what to do, and he has no idea on where to even start with her. She's one of the most fragile people he's ever met, and yet at the same time she can be so strong and willing to do whatever she wants for herself, it scares him shitless. She cries into his chest and part of him wants to cry himself, worried that she'll be able to hear his heart race through her tears.

"Everything's going to be okay," he says softly, holding her closer to him. "You're too strong for this, Rachel. You're going to go to that luncheon and see your mom, and you're going to smile and introduce yourself, and she's going to love you, okay? Just like how I love you."

Rachel looks up at Finn through her tears and a small smile appears on her face. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so," he tells her, pressing a kiss to her head.

"Santana did say that I could bring a date," she mentions, her lips curling up into a smile. "It's not like it would be your first time at the rodeo, but-"

"I'd be more than happy to go with you, Rach. I love you, remember?"

She smiles and stands up on her toes so she can kiss him, his lips feeling like heaven against hers.

"I love you too," she tells him, parting from his lips for only a moment. "So, so much."


	9. Girls' Night In

She must have planned it the second she got off the phone with her when she was with Finn, because Santana's managed to orchestrate some kind of party in order to celebrate Rachel's nomination.

if she wants to call inviting nearly all of the girls in Rachel's cast that she's grown close to for a sleepover, that is.

At first Rachel doesn't understand how all of the girls are going to fit into Santana's small apartment, but they somehow manage – partially because Santana's invited less girls than she thought she would, and because she has a skill of moving her furniture around until she gets it to be in the exact position she wants it to be. It has all of the feelings of the sleepovers Rachel had in high school with Santana towards the end of their years in school; sleeping bags lying next to each other, bowls of popcorn and pretzels and candy sitting by the bottles of nail polish on the coffee table while _Mean Girls_ plays on the TV in the background. Part of her really wants to be happy and celebrate what should be one of the most exciting days in her life with her friends, and the other part doesn't. Her mind is still consumed with Santana's phone call from days earlier, not knowing what to hope Sunday will hold. It's Friday now, she has two more days. One, technically, but she likes the sound of two more. It makes her more confident that she'll be able to handle this situation with the grace and class she knows she that can.

The other girls are happy too; their entire production has been nominated for Best ReviSan of a Musical. All of them have met Santana at some point or another, particularly Quinn. She's the blonde that doesn't talk much and seems be more concerned with her plate of chips and salsa than painting another girl's nails or watching a movie.

Rachel and Quinn seem to be faring better these days. Even Santana and Quinn are beginning to do better, and it makes Rachel wonder if Quinn's going to be alright from now on. Maybe the two girls can have a relationship like everyone expects of them, laughing and going out to dinner together and having their pictures plastered in magazines – not too many magazines, however, since they were only on stage instead of movies. Quinn seems more and more tolerable as the days go on.

Of course, she hasn't gone out for drinks or dinner with the cast after a show in a long time. Finn's taken up all of that time that she sets aside for herself.

:.:.:

Santana still manages to play the role of ringleader among all of the girls tittering in her apartment.

"Everybody shut up!" She screams over the group of girls, causing them to stop. Santana makes her way over to the couch, standing up on the arm so that she's hovering over all of the girls. Quinn looks up at her from the couch, a smug look stuck to her face.

"Now, I know that we're all here to celebrate the show getting nominated and for Shrimpy getting a nod all on her own, but this is first and foremost a party." She smiles maliciously and bends down to pick something off of a table, causing Rachel's eyebrows to quirk. "Therefore, I thought we should start this motherfucker off the right way with my best friend, Jack Daniels!" The girls begin to cheer wildly, Quinn shooting Rachel a look. Coincidentally, Rachel shoots Quinn the same one at the same time.

"San, maybe this isn't the best-"

"Shut up, Rachel. We're going to party, and we're going to do it right, alright?" Santana takes a swig from the bottle before lifting it up to the sky and letting out a wanton cheer, pushing the same from the rest of the girls. She passes the bottle around and they all take sips from the bottle, throwing their hands up to the air in excitement. Santana rushes over to the stereo system she has set up and cranks the music up so it fills the room, bass pulsating through the small room with the tinny pop vocals lilting past the girls and into Rachel's ears.

Before Rachel can reach Santana and talk to her, however, she feels a hand on her arm. Surprisingly enough, it's Quinn, still holding her bowl of chips and salsa.

"Rachel," she says, almost shouting. The blonde looks into her eyes, a small smile on her face. "Come with me. I want to talk to you for a second."

Rachel feels like her entire body has been set on fire. Quinn Fabray wants to talk to her. Alone. Over champagne and chips and salsa. It's like her breaking up with Jesse has made Quinn see her in a new light – one she's not sure whether or not she likes yet.

:.:.:

They end up in the bathroom, which surprisingly is cleaner than Rachel would have expected. She's been to Santana's multiple times, but the bathroom looks nicer, like she's cleaned it up. Probably because she knows that at least one girl will be bent over the toilet with another girl holding her hair back, especially with the amount of alcohol already being served in at the party.

"So, I wanted to know how you're doing," Quinn began, pouring a glass of champagne for Rachel as she sat on the edge of the bathtub. Rachel never liked Santana's tub; it wasn't like the glamorous claw foot that she had, and she could never see it serving as a bed like how hers could. The blonde extends her hand out and offers the flute to Rachel, the brunette sitting on the toilet and taking it gingerly. "We haven't really talked in a long time, and I wanted to make sure that everything was okay between you and…"

"Jesse?" Rachel snaps back into their conversation and she sips from her champagne before looking at Quinn. "Oh, um… we're fine. By fine, I mean t-that we broke up, but I don't see how it's any of your business, Quinn. It's true, I'm happy that you managed to point out the problem between us and addressed it with me, but I really don't see why you-"

"God, you really do never shut up, huh?" Quinn says with a light chuckle, tipping her head back and finishing off her glass of champagne in one shot. Rachel's a bit surprised, along with being miffed at her comment about her. She knows that she does talk a bit more than people would like her to, but it's really not her fault if she has an opinion to express that everyone needs to hear.

"Thanks, Quinn," she says sarcastically. Rachel sips from her champagne once more as Quinn refills her glass from the bottle that she's brought in from the party. Even from behind the closed door, Rachel can hear the party raging on in the other room; music booming and girls cheering, the faint sound of Santana hollering something in Spanish lilting through the thin walls. "Your put downs are really what I need at a time like this."

The blonde rolls her eyes and adjusts herself on the edge of the tub, somehow figuring out a way to balance with her legs crossed over the other all while holding her champagne flute and maintaining her movie star smile. "Don't take things so seriously, okay?" She looks at Rachel with a small smile, hoping she'll accept it. "You're fine, Rachel, you just… you're strong coffee, alright?" The two girls begin to giggle, Quinn reaching out to touch Rachel's hand with hers.

"I have been told that before, I guess. I doesn't give you a right to tell me, though."

Quinn rolls her eyes again, beginning to feel more frustrated with each word that comes out of Rachel's mouth. "Rachel, if I hadn't told you half of the things I ever told you, you would still be stuck to that asshole of a boyfriend you used to have. I would be a bit more grateful if I were you. I know it sounds bad, but I think we need to start to appreciate each other more, you starting with me. It can't be as hard as we make it seem."

The girls share a beat of silence, Rachel feeling her guilt consume her. Quinn just sits quietly with herself, raising her eyebrows and making a face as she picks at her nail beds. Their silence is interrupted only by the loud crashing sound of something that Rachel assumes is made of glass, followed by Santana's voice pitched high above the music before it begins to be turned down.

It takes all of their power for Rachel and Quinn not to laugh.

"For all of the managers in this city, you sure seem to have the most _interesting _one," Quinn says sincerely. Rachel smiles and suppresses a giggle, eventually releasing it as she rocks back and forth on the toilet seat.

"She's been my friend before she was my manager," Rachel explains, tucking her hair behind her ear. "San and I have known each other since high school. We haven't always got along perfectly, but we're best friends. I wouldn't trade her for the world."

The girls laugh and share a beat of silence, hearing the party quiet down outside the door. Quinn looks at Rachel and giggles, the two smiling genuinely at each other for what seems like the first time in forever.

"Rach, look, I shouldn't have gone after you like I did earlier. I mean, you're probably not that bad when it comes to talking about stuff, and-"

"Oh, no, I am," Rachel confesses. "Jesse used to tell me that all of the time." She laughs, Quinn looking down into her lap.

"So you guys are done, then? You don't have to worry about Jesse anymore?" Rachel shakes her head from side to side.

"Yes," she says, almost proudly. "We've decided to go our different ways."

"Well, that explains how you're able to act out resentment towards a boyfriend out on stage so well," Quinn jokes, causing Rachel to laugh. The girls laugh together again, Rachel's nose curling up on her face as she continues to giggle. "You're okay, though?" She asks after they settle down, tracing her finger around the rim of her champagne glass. "I mean, I know I kind of dropped a bomb on you when I told you, but I wanted to let you know that I didn't mean to make you upset."

Rachel just nods and smiles. "No, I get it. I should be the one thanking you. If it weren't for you, Quinn, I would still be stuck with him, and I just – thanks, I guess." The two girls smile, Rachel feeling tears beginning to pique at the corners of her eyes. Quinn begins to laugh and rolls her eyes playfully, causing Rachel to smile.

"God, you're not going to cry, are you Berry?" She teases, the two girls smiling. There's a beat where Rachel extends her arm out for more champagne and Quinn happily pours her another glass, the girls clinking glasses together before taking their drinks. "So word on the street is that you've already found someone else," she says, her smile still stuck to her face. "A reporter, right?"

Rachel feels her entire body go numb at the mention of Finn. She always thought that she and Finn were supposed to be a secret, and now Quinn knew about what they were doing? It wasn't like she was flaunting her relationship with Finn around so that people could see them in action. She followed all of the procedures she would with any other guy she was dating, only with Finn she would make sure to follow them down to the very last detail; closing the blinds when they had sex even if her window faced the bricks of another apartment complex, making sure to tighten the screws of her bedpost so it wouldn't squeak too much when she and Finn – well, got more than excited in her bedroom. She even made sure that no one saw him leave in the morning when he came over to spend the night. She thought that she had covered everything, and well, it seemed like Quinn knew.

_Maybe Quinn's a spy, _she tries to convince herself. _Maybe she's supposed to know all of this about me and has cameras installed in my apartment._

"Oh, God, no," Rachel stammers, finding it hard to find the right words to use. "I mean, I have a friend who's a reporter, if that's what you mean?" She figures that mentioning Finn as a friend won't make anything sound bad. They are friends, after all. "Not that I would ever be in an actual relationship with him, though. We're just friends, that's it." She flubs her lips to stall and makes a face, her smile returning back to her face in a nervous form. "Completely platonic."

Quinn shrugs, finishing off her champagne and setting the flute down on the edge of the sink. "Too bad," she muses, standing up and reaching for the doorknob. "He's pretty cute. Finn Hudson, right?"

"Right." Rachel can't believe she's just given herself up.

"Well, if I were you, I would be all over that," she confesses with a wink, reaching out for Rachel's own champagne flute. The small brunette girl hands it to her like she's in a trance as she looks up at her. "He's pretty cute."

Quinn leaves Rachel alone in the bathroom, ready to wallow in her mistake. Quinn knows. She has to know by now. Unless she's a complete idiot (which she isn't), she has to know.

Santana's going to be so upset that she wasn't the first person that she told.

:.:.:

Rachel's already gotten her 'Goodnight gorgeous, I love you' text from Finn that she gets every night, and now she's just sitting on the edge of the couch in somewhat of a drunken buzz, trying not to sit on Brittany, who's splayed out across the couch, fast asleep. The party's died down and the girls have all gone home, all but Brittany who's passed out in Santana's living room.

"She had a couple more beers than she should have," Santana explains, returning back into the living room with the mugs of tea she's made for both girls. Rachel accepts her mug and sips from it hesitantly, afraid that it's going to burn the roof of her mouth. Rachel just giggles and notices Brittany with a smile, looking down at her as she speaks.

"So it had nothing to do with the fact that you really want to have sex with her?"

Santana places her hands on her hips as she remains standing in front of Rachel. "God, Smurfette, do you know how to read through the lines or what?" Her sarcastic tone does nothing to Rachel anymore, and she invites her down on the couch next to her with a little pat of her hand. Santana sips from her tea before looking at Rachel, noticing the shit eating grin stuck to her face. Only it hasn't just been there since tonight, it's been there since she's broken up with Jesse – and it hasn't left.

Especially the nights she claims that she's gone but she comes back smelling like someone else's shampoo – Axe shampoo, even.

She can't take it anymore and her questions explode out of her like word vomit.

"Rach, you aren't fucking anyone right now, are you?"

Rachel looks at Santana, eyes wide as saucers. She feels her heart stop in her chest and she doesn't want to answer Santana's question, because she knows that Santana doesn't have the scruples to avoid grilling her like Quinn would. Santana would want every little detail about what her relationship what Finn is like, regardless of how she feels about the situation.

"What?" Rachel asks incredulously. "Santana, what would make you think th-"

"Oh, please. You come to lunch smelling like Axe and sweat and regret and sex, and you even have that stupid little ducky virgin walk when I see you. You know, how like, when you limp and look all awkward and you try to tell me that it's just your shoes?"

"Stop," Rachel tells her, afraid that Brittany will wake up. "Santana, I'm not having sex with anyone. I'm not dating anyone, so I'm not having sex with anyone." She isn't really lying. She and Finn aren't really an item yet, right? She loves him, he loves her – and they have sex that's simply outstanding. It's not that difficult of a relationship to wrap your head around.

"But the way you smile when I go over or whatever – and I swear, your bed smells like sex. Revenge, angst and hormones all in one. Rachel Berry is getting laid." Santana twiddles her fingers together maniacally and laughs to herself, making a face. Rachel looks at her sternly, a frown on her face.

"It's none of your business," she confesses. "Besides, we aren't dating."

"So you're just fucking? Oh, my God, Rach, that's even better." Santana looks like she's about to cry. "I'm so proud of you, my little Jewcake. Who's the guy? Do I know him?"

Part of Rachel wants to say that it's the handsome man from the newspaper. She wants to tell Santana how much she loves him and how much he loves her, and how their relationship is so perfect, if she even wants to call it a relationship. She wants to tell her how he holds her and how every once and a while he'll whisper something in her ear that's so devastatingly sinful that it sends chills up her spine just thinking about it. She knows that he would probably drive Santana insane as well, and telling her would just make things that much better.

And then the other half of her doesn't want to say a word. She wants to stay tight-lipped in regular Rachel fashion, not wanting anyone to know her personal business. Santana's just going to tell the entire world about her relationship, watching it be publicized for the entire world to see and read about and wonder about.

But she's too excited to control herself.

"Finn Hudson…?"

Santana puts her hand over her mouth, making a face. "The Green Giant from the Journal? He's boning you?"

"Stop it, San."

"Oh, my God. Jesus Christ Almighty, Rachel. How do you two even fit in bed together? He's so tall and you're so… well, you're so-"

"There are ways, Santana."

"He's hot enough, I guess," Santana confesses, shrugging a bit. "I just always pictured you with someone like Jesse. Gross, short, mousy and gay-looking…"

"Well, Finn's not any of those things," Rachel says proudly. "He's gorgeous, and I love him."

Santana makes a face and holds her hand up in front of her face. "Uhm, hold on. You told me you were just fucking this guy, you didn't tell me you had feelings for him." Rachel rolls her eyes, feeling her heart swell. Just thinking about Finn makes her battered heart swell and her entire world light up.

She tries to explain their relationship to Santana as best as she can, but she searches for the words, she realizes that she can't even find something that describes what they have together.

"I don't know," she finally says, sighing sweetly. "But we love each other, Santana, and that's not going to change. I don't know what it is about him that makes me love him, but he's different. He's not like other guys that I've dated."

"But you're not dating."

Rachel rolls her eyes and places her hands around her mug of tea, looking at Santana with a smile as sincere as she can muster. She can't be more positive of what she's saying.

"I still love him."


	10. The Party Was In The Girls' Room

**Thanks so much for all of the reviews and alerts, guys! This chapter is a bit shorter, but I've been rather busy these past few days and will be in the near future. I do think that this chapter will fill the need some of you guys want for smut, though. ;) Enjoy!**

Finn walks out of the bathroom, checking the collar of his shirt one last time. It keeps on rolling up around his neck like he's one of those douchebags that pops his collar constantly, and he knows that Rachel's going to call him on it the second she sees him.

He's wrong, however. Instead, she's busy adjusting her hair in the mirror that's a part of vanity she keeps right before the door out of her apartment, unable to decide whether or not she wants it up or not. Finn doesn't see into her own dilemma, however, and notices how she looks.

He doesn't know how he's done it, but he's dating the most beautiful girl in the entire world. She has her fingers threaded through her hair, her makeup just enough to make her look sparkling and new, not that she needs much makeup to begin with. He takes stock of her dress and smiles a bit, the white linen fabric hugging her tightly and accenting each one of her curves, the neckline dipping down far enough to make someone stare at her, yet not enough to make someone wonder what she might be harboring beneath her clothes, making her look simply outstanding. Finn's eyes fall down to her chest, of course, and he notices the necklace that she's wearing that falls between the swell of her breasts, a small silver star that makes him smile.

Rachel spies him looking at her, turning around and staring at him with her big, brown doe eyes. Finn's pretty sure Rachel's eyes could cut through steel if she wanted them to.

"Should I leave my hair down, or put it up?" She asks, looking back in the mirror. For a moment Finn's speechless, so overcome by how beautiful Rachel is that he loses his train of thought.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because, aren't I supposed to know how my boyfriend likes me to style my hair?" She grinned proudly into the mirror, noticing Finn rolls his eyes behind her. "And don't roll your eyes and pretend like you don't care." She smiles sweetly and Finn smiles with her, walking up behind her and holding her by the waist. He rests his chin on the top of her head, looking at her through the mirror as he feels her move her own hands over his. She has the smallest hands ever, he notes, and he feels her back up into him a bit, each curve of her finding its place against his chest. He feels her chest rise and fall and her ribcage expand as she breathes, her breath becoming quicker and more hurried.

"Is that what we are now, Finn? Can I call you my boyfriend?" She looks up at him, not bothering to stare at him through the mirror anymore. Finn feels her turn around and then she's looking at him, craning her neck up like she always does when she has to look at him. He thinks it's kind of adorable how short she is.

He can't help but feel his heartbeat quicken when she asks him her question, however. He feels like he's on fire and his throat closes up. Part of him is afraid to tell her how badly he wants to be her boyfriend. They've only known each other now for what, a little over two weeks? It made him feel uncomfortable for him the first time they had sex, only because he felt like he was taking advantage of her. And now he's over at her apartment, getting ready to take her to this luncheon that she's going to. He doesn't see why they wouldn't be considered an item.

"Sure," he says. Really? Sure? That's all he can come up with? He feels her shift in his arms a bit, looking up at him with a confused look on her face. "I m-mean, yeah, of course. I'm sorry, Rach, I just… I love you. There's nothing more that I want to be your boyfriend." He smiles, spinning her around and taking her by the hands. Rachel looks up at him and smiles, feeling him brush her bangs out of her eyes and causing her to giggle.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Rachel giggles and stands up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, swinging her arms over his shoulders and having her hands link together at the nape of his neck. "Good," she says, popping her foot up in the air as she balances on her other foot, still standing up on her toes. Finn thinks her height difference is so adorable; it makes him want to hug her and kiss her and spend the entire day with her. Not that he's hasn't done that already, but it makes him want to do it even more.

"I love you so much, Rachel," Finn says, running a hand through her hair. "And you don't need to worry about today, alright? I'm sure your mom is going to love you."

Rachel feels her heart beat faster, looking into his eyes and feeling like she's lost herself. No matter how many times Finn tells her that everything's going to be alright, she can't help but believe that he's wrong. Finn can kiss her and hold her and tell her that she's going to be alright for as long as he wants, but Rachel knows the truth. It isn't going to do her any good, his words of encouragement. This woman is going to hate her, she knows it. Twenty five years have passed and they've never spoken to one another, and she chooses now of all times to reconnect with her mother? When they're both up for one of the most coveted awards in Rachel's career?

Finn notices Rachel's expression fall a bit, wondering if she's alright. His hands fall to the sides of her arms, rubbing them softly as he looks into her eyes. "You're going to be great, babe," he tells her, his voice soft. "Just let me know if you need anything when we're there, alright?"

Rachel looks up at him and gives him a little nod of approval. "Alright."

:.:.:

"I need you," Rachel whispers into Finn's ear. He jumps when he feels her fingers on his arm, her voice hot in his ear. He nearly spills his glass of champagne on the man that's standing in front of him. Finn turns to face her and her face is red, looking like she's about to burst into tears. He grabs her by the wrists and leads her into the bathroom, weaving their way through the still growing group of people that congregates by the tables of food set out for the nominees.

"I can't do it, Finn," Rachel bursts, her tears streaming down her face. She rips her hands away from his grip and begins pacing around the bathroom, just as lavishly decorated as the restaurant itself. Her heels clack against the cold tile floor, her arms cross over her chest as she paces, her mind reeling. "I saw her, Finn. I saw her when I was busy getting something to drink and she was there, and for a second I looked at her and I smiled, just because I knew it would be the polite thing to do, but I wasn't expecting it to be her, and now I can't-"

She stops talking, all words in the room stopping at once. Finn's got her pushed up against the bathroom wall and he's kissing her, his lips crashing into hers and her lips reluctantly trying to refuse, but she can't help herself. Rachel kisses him back and she feels his tongue push past her lips, wrapping around her own and kissing her even fiercer than before.

"You can do anything you want to, Rach," he tells her, leaning in to Rachel so she can't escape from in front of him, resting his hand that isn't cupped around her waist against the wall behind her. "You just need to relax, okay?" He leans back in to kiss her, brushing her tears off of her cheeks. She parts from his lips and looks at him, almost looking uncomfortable.

"I don't want to," she whines, resting a hand on the side of Finn's face. "I just want you." She kisses him again, not knowing whether or not she should cry. The same feeling of pent up anger and depression floods her again, but she can't come up with the tears to cry her feelings out with. Her heart feels like it's about to split in two, her chest tighter than it's even felt before. If she can hide in the bathroom with Finn like this forever, she will. It's not like anyone's going to miss her. She's a girl; it's not like they're going to pull her out of the bathroom. Even if they tried, Santana would just beat them up.

Rachel continues to kiss him, not wanting to part with him for one moment. She feels his hands pushing at the fabric of her dress and she swats them away, pulling her lips away from their kiss.

"Finn," she hisses, her mood dropping. She isn't hot and bothered like before, her voice falling back into the reprimanding tone it does when Finn's done something she hasn't smiled over – which isn't often, but it happens enough that Finn knows it when he hears it. "We're not doing this here. Not now, anyway."

Finn smirks playfully, letting his fingers dance across her legs. "Come on, Rach. I know it'll make you… _settle down._" He begins assaulting her neck with his lips, leaving a decently sized hickey directly underneath her ear. Rachel wants to stop him, but she can't find the will to. All she knows is that she's locked in a bathroom in one of the nicest restaurants in New York City with her boyfriend that wants to do nothing but kiss her and eventually have sex with her on the bathroom floor.

And then there are all of her problems, waiting for her behind the bathroom door. Having Finn kiss her as he held her up against the bathroom wall made her feel like everything outside of the bathroom didn't matter. Of course, she knew that if anyone were to walk into the ladies' room at this point, she would have a whole other mess of problems to deal with. Normally, Rachel had a better head about her. There were times where she wouldn't so much as sneeze in public because she knew it would disrupt something, and now she was in a public bathroom, having Finn trying to rip her clothes off while there was a luncheon going on.

She always knew that situations like this were supposed to excite people. Ever since she had disclosed to Santana that she was in somewhat of a relationship with Finn, all the other girl could talk about was how they needed to do it in a public place, because it makes everything 'so much hotter,' but Rachel didn't believe her at first. Now that she was kissing Finn and she could feel his fingers sliding up her legs and underneath the short hem of her dress, Santana's words began to seem all too true.

She watches him as his head moves down from kissing her lips to her neck, lips gliding across her chest. Rachel feels her knees buckle underneath her, moving her hands down to take the sides of his face in them.

"Let me sit down," she murmurs, raking her fingers through his hair. Finn just looks at her, like he's reading her mind. In the small amount of time they've been together, they sure have managed to understand what each other wants with simply a look. He nearly scoops her up in his arms and brings her to one of the love seats located towards the back of the bathroom. He silently thanks himself for choosing a place that has furniture in the bathroom, instead of a place like McDonald's.

Finn drops down to his knees when Rachel lands in the chair, his hands tugging at the fabric of her dress. He realizes that she isn't wearing a bra underneath the bustier that's a part of her dress, his hands curling around the cups of the bodice and pulling it down around her waist, beginning to attack her with kisses. She lets out a small whimper, feeling her toes curl in her shoes. Rachel feels Finn's kisses against her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and to her legs, one hand still squeezing one of her breasts while the other massages her thigh, making her feel like she's on fire. Santana was right; doing all of this in public makes her feel like she's on top of the world.

"Lock the door," she hisses, and Finn just shakes his head.

"No, I want to leave it open. Let us get caught."

Rachel no longer feels comfortable, and instead feels like she's going to have to charge into a bathroom stall and fall to her knees while Finn holds her hair out of her face. She's never been interested in exhibitionism, and she's not about to now.

When she feels him duck down and begin to press kisses to the inside of her thighs, however, Rachel's quickly singing a different tune. She squeaks and feels like she's about to explode, his fingers tracing lightly against her hipbone. Her skirt is now bunched up completely around her hips, the lacy white underwear she's been wearing underneath now visible to him.

"Do you ever think about it, Rach?" He begins sucking on the skin where her thigh meets her hip, eliciting a sigh from her. His finger hook in the thin waistband of her underwear, tugging them down until they reach her calves. "About having me fuck you in a public place like this?"

Her brain can't begin to conjure up words to explain how she feels. She's never expected Finn to be such a filthy talker – but she's also never expected to do the wild horizontal in a public place like Sardi's, so either her sense of reality is warped or his is. Her hips jerk at his touch, causing him to only do it more. He lets his kisses dance around the place where she wants them most, looking up at her with a shit eating grin stuck to his face.

"Because I think about it." He drops his hand down from her breast and uses both of his hands to focus on the space between her legs, the scent of her arousal driving him crazy. For someone who seemed to paranoid about being intimate in a public place, Rachel sure didn't look that way. He skirts his mouth around her aching center, the vibrations of his voice against her skin sending chills up her spine. "About how I've never had the chance to go down on you." He lets his tongue glide over the seam of her, Rachel feeling like she's going to split in two. "About how delicious you must taste." He swipes his tongue up against her one more time. "And how it would feel to have you come in my mouth." And again.

From the moment she feels his tongue against her she feels like she's going to rocket up into the sky, every inch of her feeling like it's on fire. She looks down at him and she knows that if he doesn't do anything soon that she really is going to lose it, using her eyes to beg him to continue.

Finn peels the undergarment away from her legs, tugging it down over her shoes without ripping them and tossing them into a corner. He moves his hands down between her legs and spreads her wider, beginning his assault on her with his tongue. Rachel tips her head back in the chair, her moans getting louder and louder by the second. He alternates between moving his tongue around her lazily to picking up his speed and licking her quickly. He doesn't know what's hotter; the sweet and tangy taste of her on his tongue, or watching her fall apart above him.

"Oh, Finn, yes… just like that," she moans, dropping her hand down and raking her fingers through his hair, pushing him further into her. Finn smirks to himself and plunges his tongue into her as far as he can, a scream ripping out of her and echoing in the bathroom. She bites down on her lip to silence herself, knowing that someone had to have heard that last one. She's sure that it's the loudest she's ever screamed.

"Do you like that baby?" Finn asks, only parting from her for a moment before focusing back in on her again, closing his lips over her clit. He looks up and sees her chest rising and falling dramatically.

"God, yes," she says, her voice strained. "So, so much…" her voice trails off and she can't manage to come up with any more words to say. All she can think of is how he feels against her, his tongue and his lips and – _oh._

Finn closes his lips around her clit and sucks on it lightly, the sound of Rachel's moans the only thing he can hear. It's like the world around them has fallen apart, Rachel being the only thing he cares about anymore. And for good reason, too – she's never been hotter.

He removes his lips from her and plunges his tongue into her once more, moving a hand up and taking his thumb over clit, feeling her begin to fall apart at his touch. She pants heavily and begins fidgeting in the chair, her legs shaking as she feels herself come undone. She grinds her hips into Finn, riding the waves of her orgasm until she feels herself go limp in the chair.

There's a beat of silence between the two of them, the only sound in the room the sound of Rachel's heavy sighs, the occasional moan escaping her. Finn gets up from his knees, watching Rachel pull the fabric of her dress back down around her legs and adjust the bodice of her dress.

"Are you relaxed now?" He asks her softly, Rachel looking at him with a bright smile on her face.

"No," she pants, still catching her breath as her legs shake beneath her. "But I do feel much better now." She stands and the two meet in a kiss, Rachel able to taste herself on his lips. Finn snakes his hand around her waist and holds her close, Rachel popping her foot up in the air and giggling into their kiss.

"I love you," she whispers confidently. "And I'm ready. I wouldn't be if I didn't have you." He smiles, bending down to pick up her underwear and pockets them without her noticing. Walking around without any underwear won't kill her, he realizes. Especially in that dress. Finn smiles and adjusts Rachel's hair, tugging it out of the loose bun she's had it in all morning.

"You're going to want your hair down after all," he tells her, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. He waits a moment to press his fingers against the hickey he's left on her neck, causing Rachel's face to light up. "Unless you want everyone to know that you're mine."

"Of course I do," she tells him, taking him by the hand and walking towards the door into the restaurant. "You're mine and I'm yours, right?" Finn smiles and walks out with her, holding her hand all of the way.

"Ready?"

"With you? Of course I am."


	11. Ladies Who Lunch

Everything goes over smoother than Rachel ever would have imagined. She goes off and joins the group of women standing proudly before the table of flowers, cameras snapping pictures from all angles. Strangely enough, they've placed Rachel next to Shelby, nearly as tall as her in her heels.

It sends a chill up Rachel's spine when she realizes that their smiles are nearly identical. She had always been told when she was younger that she had her father's smile, but now that she's seeing her mother standing next to her and smiling the same way she is, she understands that she bears next to none or no resemblance to her father at all – and it doesn't matter which one. There's no doubt in her mind that this is her mother. It has to be.

The women begin to socialize and talk with one another, Rachel beginning to talk to a girl named Mercedes, an actress nominated for her performance in the revival of _Dreamgirls. _She's seen it and she tells her that she's fabulous, because she really is, and the two girls begin giggling over champagne flutes, Rachel realizing that Finn still has her underwear, probably hidden away somewhere. She hopes that she doesn't have to bend over or sit down awkwardly in a chair, or –

"Hi," a voice chimes behind her. She tries to identify the voice before turning around, but she feels a hand on her shoulder. The voice is more mature and confident than hers, and she feels like she already knows that the inevitable is about to happen.

Shelby is standing before her, a smile stuck to her face.

Rachel's lost for words, a perpetual smile slowly appearing on her face.

"I just wanted to congratulate you," Shelby says, extending her hand for Rachel's. The small brunette quickly grabs Shelby's hand without thinking, laughing nervously. "Both of you girls, really," she adds after seeing Mercedes standing kiddy corner to Rachel. "I've seen both of you and the both of you are just… wow," she exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. Rachel normally tries to read through someone to see if they're telling the truth or not during a situation like this. But not this time. Now she's just stuck looking at this woman like she's lost her mind, trying to compare each one of her own physical assets to Shelby's.

"Oh, um, you too," Rachel finally exclaims, her hand with the champagne flute practically shaking. "I, um, I h-haven't seen it yet, but I've heard it's amazing, really." Rachel finds it eerily scary how much she resembles Shelby. The weird way her hairline lies, the crook in her nose, even the set in her gait. It makes her wonder why no one's ever proposed the idea before.

She wants to shout it out so the entire room can know – Shelby Corcoran is her mother! How could it not be more obvious? The whole reason behind her auditioning for _Chicago _was to make it seem like some important and purposeful event, instead of just another role to play?

"People tell me that you're giving me a run for my money the way you're performing up there," Shelby tells Rachel, snapping the smaller girl back into reality. Rachel shakes her head a bit and realizes that Mercedes's gone, talking to a different group of people off in a different corner. It's just her and Shelby, and the fear that she's been trying to face now for the past ten years. "Just the way you sing and perform, Rachel, it's… it's so amazing to watch you up there."

Rachel feels something churn in her stomach, the feeling she always gets when she's nervous. She just smiles and tries to let it roll off of her shoulders, knowing that if she puts a bright enough smile on her face, that everything will work out for the best. She thinks back to when she's seen Shelby perform in the same role when she mentions something about her 'giving her a run for her money.' She wants to smile, because she knows that it's quite the compliment. Shelby Corcoran has already stacked up Tony Awards and countless other recognitions and awards that Rachel feels like a pawn next to her. But to be complimented by someone like her fills her up with light, for reasons other people would never understand. She's being complimented by her mother. It's a wonderful thing when you haven't received it in twenty five years.

"Oh, um, you too, I-I'm sure," she stammers, stumbling on her words and looking for something nice to say to the woman standing before her. She's imagined this situation in her head so many times and tried to rehearse exactly what she wants to say over and over again so that it feels like it's going to come as second nature when the time arrives, but now the time has arrived, and she's lost, not knowing what to say. There aren't many times when Rachel Berry's lost for words, and she silently tells herself that this is the first time when the situation has arisen.

"I mean, you're great too," she says, correcting herself. "I haven't seen you in _Evita_ yet, but I'm sure you're fabulous. When I was in high school, um, my school came here on a choir tour, and I got to see you in _Chicago._ It was one of the inspirations for me to pursue a career in theatre." She lies through her teeth, smiling up at Shelby. She makes a mental note to herself to go see _Evita _with Finn at some point in the near future. She wants to see it with someone she can sit with and hold hands with and rest her head on their shoulder when she feels her heart swell with pride, even though she knows it shouldn't, and she wants that person to let her know that everything is going to be alright, even if she knows that it won't be.

Shelby just smiles and laughs a bit, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Thanks," she says. She receives compliments like an old professional; she's probably heard the same ones so many times over that they don't mean anything to her anymore. Rachel wishes that she could do the same thing. Each time she gets told that she's good at something, she still breaks out into her signature bubbly smile and creased eyes and wrinkled nose that everyone knows her to have. "How old are you?" Shelby asks, changing the subject. "I mean, you don't need to tell me, but I was just curious. I always love it when there are younger people nominated for things."

Rachel smiles sheepishly, giggling a bit. "Twenty five," she says, almost boastingly. "And it's okay. I guess I am kind of young for all of… this." Rachel waves her free hand around and gestures to the room, noticing the caricatures on the wall. She wonders if Shelby has her own that decorates the restaurant. Finn's already told her that the second she wins her Tony award, they're coming here and she's getting her caricature done so it can hang on the wall with the greats, like Barbra Streisand and Diana Ross. Rachel, of course is worried that they'll draw her nose at the wrong angle and she'll end up looking more like a toucan than herself, but Finn just ruffles her hair and tells her that they could never mess it up because she's so beautiful, and she smiles.

Shelby smiles at the young girl, folding her arms over her chest. Rachel notices her warm demeanor and smiles back, taking a sip from her champagne. Maybe meeting her mother isn't so bad after all – as long as she never discloses the fact that she thinks that she's her daughter.

:.:.:

"And she went to NYU too, and she's married, Finn – I don't know who her husband is, but she said he was a lawyer that worked in the building on 38th and 7th, and that's right across from my apartment – isn't that crazy?"

"Crazy," Finn repeats, taking Rachel by the hand as they continue walking down the street. She looks overdressed now that they're outside on the dirty streets of New York, her dress and his suit making them look like they're on their way to a wedding. He looks down at her as she continues talking, not looking like she's so nervous anymore. It's like it's an entirely different Rachel, the one he has by the hand. She doesn't seem to notice when he snakes around the corner and takes the long way back to her apartment – cutting through Central Park.

"I never knew I had so much in common with my own mother," Rachel comments off-handedly, still unable to notice where Finn's taking her. "Even the way she speaks, Finn. We have the same speech patterns. Isn't that crazy?"

Finn just chuckles to himself, walking past the gates of the park and through the groomed shrubbery that lines the paths that wind through the New York landmark. The colorful crowds still burst with excitement at five in the afternoon on a Saturday, the smells of popcorn and candied apples and the faint smell of the garbage barges wafting into the park. He begins to laugh when Rachel finally realizes what's happened to her.

"Where are we going?" She asks, looking up at Finn with a smile. "I thought we were going to your place?"

"We are," he tells her. "But we're stopping here first. I want to go to that one place you keep telling me about." Rachel furrows her brow, not knowing what he's talking about.

"What place?"

"You said it was a bridge… I mean, there are tons of bridges here, but you said it was your favorite." Finn thinks it's funny how he's lived in New York his entire life, and yet Rachel knows it better than he does after only living here for seven years.

"Oh, the Bow Bridge? Yes, that one is my favorite – how did you remember?"

Finn just smiles and wraps her arm around his girlfriend's waist. He likes that he gets to call her his girlfriend. There's not really anyone else he would want to call his girlfriend, anyway.

:.:.:

She's gotten the night off because of the luncheon, which causes them to stand at the bridge all night. Rachel tells him that she's willing to wait until the sun goes down to go back to his apartment, but Finn just smiles and reminds her that the sun won't set until sometime tonight around nine-thirty, which she just shrugs at.

"Then we'll stay out here," she protests, giving his hand a squeeze. "We'll stay out here until they make us leave, right?" Finn looks down at her, feeling her hold herself closer to him than she ever has before. For as long as they've been waltzing around Central Park together, Rachel hasn't seemed herself. She's seemed excited and full of energy, but he knows that she isn't being the regular Rachel that he's fallen in love with. The wind picks up and sends a chill down his spine; the breeze only intensified by the water beneath them. He can see why she loves this bridge out of the rest of them in the park. It's the biggest and by far the prettiest. He wonders how many other guys she's brought to the same spot, and it makes him feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.

"Rach," he eventually asks, mustering up the courage to speak. "Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be alright?" She asks, turning to look at Finn, a worried look stuck to her face. "I'm fine, I promise. I've just… I've had a long day, and-"

"It's your mom, isn't it?" Finn asks quietly, worried about her reaction. Part of him thinks that Rachel's going to turn into this insanely angry dragon lady that's going to attack him and push him off of the bridge after referencing her mother. It's her mother. She's supposed to be able to talk about her like it's nothing, right?

There's a long beat of silence between them, and Rachel leans against the bridge, the wind whipping through her hair. She's not even sure if it's the bitter cold that causes tears to pique in the corners of her eyes, or if it's the way she feels like her heart is going to explode.

"Does your mom love you, Finn?"

Finn's a bit dumbstruck by her question; does his mom love him? Of course his mom loves him, she's told him that since the day he's been born. She's been to every band concert, every football game, every important moment in his life. For being a single parent for most of her life, Finn's mom has always been there for him. He loves her, and the more he thinks about how much his mom loves him, the more he wonders how Rachel must feel. To not have a mother in her life, and to make matters worse, to watch her mother do everything she's ever wanted for herself in life, to grow up with her mother in the limelight while she waited on the sidelines, wanting so desperately for her mother to know her. The more he thinks about it, the more her reasons for wanting to meet her and for her to know that she's her daughter are justifiable. She's her mother, Rachel's her daughter. It can't be any simpler.

"Of course she does," Finn tells her, standing slightly behind the girl in front of him. He pauses, seeing the tears glaze over Rachel's perfect brown eyes, and a sigh escapes him. "And your mom loves you too, alright?" He begins to rub Rachel's back, leaning against the bridge with her. "There's nothing that can change that, okay?" Rachel continues to look out over the bridge, trying to catch her breath and settle herself. "Did you tell her today?"

Rachel just sighs and looks at Finn, shaking her head. "No," she confesses, tucking her hair behind her ears. "She was just so nice, and I didn't want to say anything to her, not then. I was just nervous, that was all."

Finn sighs, turning so he faces Rachel directly, smiling slightly to make her feel better. He doesn't understand why she wouldn't want to tell Shelby. She's her mother, she's supposed to want to be with her, isn't she? Or at least know her on a more personal level than she does.

"We talked, though. We're going out to breakfast next Sunday." Rachel wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, sighing. "I just don't want to tell her just yet, okay? I want to give it some time before I just… drop a bomb on her. I'm sure she thinks about the daughter she never had too, alright?" Her voice catches on a sob, Finn holding her close. He can't help but think back to when he had first met Rachel, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Everything about her seemed perfect, like she had her entire life put together. He's glad that she's having breakfast with her mother, but he doesn't know if she wants it or not. She seems stiff, not herself. Finn feels like no matter what he does, Rachel will remain the same stubborn, headstrong girl he's known since the day they've met. It's the same thing that's attracted him to her in the first place.

"That's good," he tells her, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She smiles, loving it when he pushes her hair out of her eyes, when his calloused fingers brush against her cheek. She loves him so much, sometimes she feels like she's going explode when she sees him, or when he smiles at her when she wakes up next to him. She doesn't want to lose him, especially now. He's the best thing that's come into her life in what seems like forever, and to lose him would be to lose more than she could ever imagine.

"You're going to be great, Rach. Just… I think you're being smart, by waiting to tell her and stuff. Besides, then you guys can kind of get to know each other. You said you liked her, right?" Finn can't imagine why Shelby would be a bad person. If she's Rachel's mother and Rachel shares all of these mannerisms with her that she says she does, then she can't imagine Shelby Corcoran being a horrible person.

"She is rather nice," Rachel mutters. "And beautiful. She's really pretty."

"Well, she would have to be," Finn tells Rachel, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her close. "How else would she have the most beautiful daughter in the entire world?" Rachel giggles and rests her head against his shoulder as Finn presses a kiss to her forehead. She can't begin to comprehend how she's gotten so lucky in finding Finn. He's better than anyone else she's ever met, and she never wants him to leave her, ever.

:.:.:

Finn drums his fingers against the table in his cubicle, sighing deeply. He knows what he's about to propose is a risk, a big one which he's worried about – but he knows that he's not supposed to be worried about it. He sees the silhouette of his editor walk past the hallway, causing him to stumble out of his chair and towards the main hall.

"Look, um, Sue, um, I was wondering if I could rewrite my article on Rachel Berry," he stammers, wringing his hands together. "I know you wanted it on my desk by the other day, but I just have one final change I'd like to make to it, and –"

"What makes you think that I'm going to let you do that, Hudson?" Sue asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "That article is set to print. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't your greatest. I don't see why you would want to change it." She turns around and begins her way to her office, Finn chasing after her.

"You don't understand," he calls, immediately regretting his word choice. He's preparing to get himself fired instead of changing his article on Rachel, which is the last thing he wants. Sue turns around and gives him daggers, making his heart skip a beat. "I m-mean, I, um, I'd just like to change it. I've run into some new information recently, and I think the article would really benefit from it." He stops for a moment, waiting for her reaction. He's learned how to read her for the short time that he's been working for the Journal, realizing what she means just by a look that she gives him.

"This _information_…" she begins, furrowing her brow as she looks at Finn. "Where did you find it?"

Finn feels his cheeks turn red. "Let's just say that I've talked to the person in question, and I've run into more information that would make the article a bit more… exciting." He sighs, nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek. His moral compass seems to be gone; not worrying about how releasing this information will hurt Rachel, or anyone else around her. It's just for work, and that's all.

Sue narrows her eyes and looks at Finn, judging his word. "Have it finished on my desk by the end of today. It runs Sunday morning."


	12. Love Letters

Her shows consume her life once more, realizing that she has less and less time to spend with Finn. It's only fair, really. She's taken so many days off lately that people probably think that Tina's the true star of the show instead of her. She returns to the show with the cast abuzz about her nomination and her new boyfriend that she's seemed to gain simultaneously, even Quinn telling her that it's a good thing, only smiles coming from her. The girls seem to get along famously, spending more time with each other than ever.

Rachel knows that she won't be able to see Finn until next Monday, so she knows that she's going to use a different way to keep in touch with him than most girls. She doesn't want to be known as the clingy girlfriend that calls and texts or plans Skype dates every day at a specific time. She wants it to feel real and genuine, from the heart. And, of course, being Rachel Berry, she goes out to the card store and buys a new set of gel pens. She'll write each letter in a different color.

:.:.:

_Tuesday, May 10__th__  
>Dearest Finn,<br>I thought this would be the most fun way to let you know about everything going on without having to call you. I've always thought a letter adds a personal touch that calling just doesn't anyway, don't you? I just wanted to thank you for everything on Saturday – and Sunday morning, I guess. :) I've never met anyone who's been so chivalrous and darling and admirable, and I love you so much for that, Finn, I really do. I hope you have a great day today, sweetie. I love you.  
>Rachel*<em>

_Wednesday, May 11__th__  
>I thought now would be the perfect time to let you know that I went out and bought special pens for this whole writing thing I'm doing with you! I'm changing the colors of the pens for each day this week (I'm saving blue for Friday, don't worry). While I'm on the subject of your favorite color, what's your favorite movie? I've decided to rent it so we can watch it together on Monday night. I think you've handled enough of my movie musicals to deserve to watch a movie of your own. Just not Die Hard, please. I don't like that one very much.<br>Love, Rachel*_

_Thursday, May 12__th__  
>I hope these letters haven't been inconvenient for you. I just think that giving you a hand-written letter is much more romantic than calling you or texting you, don't you think? I can just see you now, sitting at your desk and getting one of my pink envelopes on your desk each morning and having it make you smile… I love you, alright? I always want you to remember that, Finn. I love you, and nothing's going to change that.<br>Love, Rachel*_

_Friday, May 13__th__  
>Dearest Finn,<br>I just wanted to let you know that I'm beyond paranoid today. It's Friday the 13__th__! I've never performed on a Friday the 13__th__ before! Part of me really wants you in the audience so I know that I know someone out there, but I completely understand if you can't make it. Just know that I've been throwing salt over my shoulder and I've been wearing a horseshoe necklace all day. I even went and bought a four leaf clover at this one store and I've been carrying it in my wallet. Part of me feels that if I have you, though, I'll be alright. You'll always be there in spirit for me, right? :)  
>Lots of Love, Rachel*<br>P.S: Didn't you notice my blue gel pen?_

:.:.:

Finn can't help but laugh at each one of the letters he receives from Rachel, each one cuter and better than the last. He really can't understand why he's lucky enough to have her. She's perfection in a five foot-two package, and reading her letters only makes him want her more.

And yet he feels like he's helped her a great deal with the edit made to his article. It should open the eyes of the readers and hopefully of Rachel, as well. She's his, but she's stubborn. He's noticed that from the day he met her.

He thinks about her at work, wondering how she really is doing. Her letters seem to ring true, but she's never lied to him before. He has no doubt in his mind that she's doing alright.

Besides, each time he starts to miss her, Finn just looks out of the window from his cubicle and sees her picture on the billboard that hangs over the city, her picture looking back at him and reminding him of how he gets to have her all over again on Monday. They'll have crazy amazing sex and he'll get to cook dinner for her and she'll probably sing herself to sleep like she does all of the time, and things will be back to normal. He misses her far too much than he should.


	13. Aftershocks

She doesn't normally drink coffee. She thinks that the ruddy, earthy aftertaste is rather unappealing, no matter who serves it to her. Finn's even tried, and to no avail. She won't touch the stuff. (Besides, she's heard one too many stories from Santana on how coffee's supposed to stunt your growth and she definitely doesn't want to take part in that.)

But she watches Shelby pour more into her mug at breakfast and she can't help but wonder if she should as well. It seems like everything Shelby Corcoran does turns to gold, and perhaps drinking coffee is one of the steps to doing that. She's so nice and sweet, and their whole situation of meeting has gone over nothing like Rachel had originally imagined. What she had originally planned to be horrible and awkward and uncomfortable has turned into a relationship that she's learned to love so much. It doesn't feel like their mother and daughter anymore, and instead like they're friends. Rachel's never made friends with someone in her forties, and part of her likes it. It's like Shelby's this wiser, more experienced voice in her life, advice that not even Santana can give her.

She's worried that once she finds out that this is all going to stop. Does Shelby know ? Maybe she's known since the second they've met and she just isn't willing to tell Rachel yet – or just isn't ready. There's this feeling that Rachel senses deep in the pit of her stomach, desperately wanting to tell Shelby the truth. She deserves the truth, anyway.

If this were Santana, Rachel knows that she wouldn't be beating around the bush like she is. Santana would just tell Shelby, cut and dry, what was happening. She doesn't know how to dance around things like she does. At least not like how she thinks she does.

Every few minutes, Rachel looks down to her purse when Shelby isn't looking. There she sees the blue cassette tape that she's kept for so many years, the label faded and the tape played so many times that if she were to play it again, it would fall to pieces. It's her only piece of proof to give to Shelby if she needs it.

Hopefully, she won't need it.

:.:.:

"I've really enjoyed talking to you," Rachel finally blurts, her fork stabbing at her vegan omelet. Only in New York would a diner sell any kind of vegan options for breakfast, which she's happy for. Back when she was living in Ohio, people would just give her glares like she had lobsters crawling out of her ears when she asked if they had any vegan options. When she was in New York, all they did was nod, like it was something they heard every day.

Shelby looks up from her plate, wiping her mouth off daintily with her napkin. She smiles politely, reaching for her coffee once more. Rachel's decided to stick with her orange juice, the very smell of coffee making her queasy.

Rachel notices Shelby's reaction and tries to pick her words carefully before speaking again. She doesn't want to say the wrong thing and somehow come across as a crazy person. "I mean, I've just never really had anyone like you to talk to, and I… I've always wanted a mentor of sorts. Is it wrong that I've found that in you?"

Shelby just smiles and laughs it off, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. "You know, you're a lovely girl, Rachel," she tells her, tucking a wisp of stray hair that's fallen from her bun behind her ear. "You remind me of me when I was your age. So driven and determined to get what you wanted, and not stopping at any costs."

"That does describe me rather well," Rachel says, smiling at the fact that Shelby seems to have her number. Her mother already knows that much about her? Maybe she's just one of those people that can read others really well. Rachel thinks that at times she possesses this skill, but if she does, then Shelby's got it under much more control. "Although I wasn't appreciated for it much when I was in high school, people really do seem to understand what a great asset it is now."

And then Shelby says something that makes Rachel feel like she's about to fall through a hole in the floor. She can feel the restaurant around them feel like it's falling apart, the only sounds apparent to her being Shelby's voice.

"I've always wanted a daughter." She says it like it means nothing to her, like it's just a thought she has every day. Rachel wants to jump up from her chair and wave her arms wildly and tell her that her daughter's sitting right in front of her, but she can't. Not even the cassette she's brought for security can help her now. All she sees is Shelby looking sad about the daughter she thinks that could have been.

"Why don't you?" Rachel asks nervously, picking at the sleeve of her blouse. "I'm sure you and your husband would have a beautiful baby girl."

Shelby just shakes her head solemnly, clearing her throat before speaking. "We've tried," she confesses, adjusting herself nervously in the booth. Rachel can see the nervousness pouring out of her, making her own heart sink a bit in her chest. "I've been to the doctor's and things just don't work right. I can't have a baby." The tension that fills the booth between the two women can be cut with a knife, Rachel feeling horrible. She wants nothing more but to tell her the truth, but she can't think of what words sound good together in her head. Normally she's good at things like this, but right now, she's not.

"I'm sorry, Shelby, really." Rachel tries to think of some way to tell her, still unable to find words that make it to her lips on time. There's always the idea of pulling the cassette out of her purse and just sliding it across the table, showing her without actually saying anything. That way she doesn't have to worry about finding the right words.

Shelby pauses for a moment, gathering herself as she looks at Rachel. The way her eyebrows knit together on her face in this worried expression almost brings a smile to her face, wanting to get up out of the booth and walk over to the petite brunette, pulling her in for a hug. It's so sweet how she cares so much – and Shelby's an actress along with Rachel. She can tell when someone's lying to her and showing her false sympathy, and Rachel definitely isn't.

She's never been one to disclose personal information to anyone, not even her closest friends. There are girls from college that she's kept in touch with, but only one or two that she tells things to. Rachel seems to be different, however. Like someone she can trust with things. She's a new, green person to the cutthroat world of Broadway, and she doesn't seem like someone that tries to get ahead by telling other people the secrets of others.

"Have you ever thought of adopting?"

Shelby shakes her head, feeling tears pique at her eyes. She chokes them back and just looks at Rachel, frowning a bit. "No, I've never… I had a daughter once," she exclaims, quietly at first. "I've never told this to hardly anyone, Rachel, not even my husband, but – when I was nineteen, I was the surrogate for these two men in Ohio – I needed the money, and they were willing to give it to me." Rachel swears she can feel her heart stop for a good minute as she hears Shelby speak.

"I never thought that I would grow so attached to a baby, but I did, and when she was born, all I wanted to do was see her. I wanted to be like the rest of the women delivering babies and hold my own daughter, but she wasn't mine to want to hold." Shelby attempts to save face and wicks her tears away from her eyes, sniffling a bit. "I always told myself I would find her, and then… _this _happened," she says, gesturing around to the restaurant, to the city. "There's nothing I want more than to go back to Ohio and find her. She's about your age now, now that I think of it."

Rachel wants to cry the second she sees Shelby seconds away from crying, especially because what she's looking for is sitting right in front of her. She sticks her hand deep into her purse, fingers curling around the blue plastic, feeling it make impressions in her skin that sting.

Before she can say anything, however, she's stopped.

:.:.:

He's messed up. No, he's beyond messed up. He can't just apologize for this one. He has to sit and watch every last second of destruction happen, his career possibly ending. More importantly, his relationship with Rachel is going down the drain. Just thinking about walking down the street makes him feel uncomfortable, like Rachel's going to jump out of nowhere and begin attacking him. He can't blame her, though. He would want to beat up anyone who had done this to him.

"You can't run the article," he tells Sue as he storms into her office slamming his hands down on her desk. She looks over her glasses and rolls her eyes, not bothering to look at Finn for a moment. "I didn't look it over well enough and I need it-"

"You come in here on a Sunday to ask me to stop your article that's already printed and out on shelves? Are you an idiot, Hudson?" She returns back to the things on her desk, sighing deeply.

"I just need it to be pulled," he begs. "Please."

"I can't pull an article from the shelves, and you know that. You should have been more careful when you wrote it."

:.:.:

Finn swears he sees his life flash before his eyes as he dodges another throw pillow thrown at him.

"I hate you!" She screams, tears streaming down her face. She can't find anymore words to use, and her hands search tables, bookshelves, anything she can to find things to throw at him. He's horrible, and he's worth nothing to her now.

His eyes widen and he sees her grab a salt shaker from a shelf, walking over to her and grabbing her by the wrist before she's able to throw it. Rachel looks up at him, unable to see clearly through her tears.

"Rachel, I'm sorry," he tells her, continuing to hold her close. Rachel's surprised at how strong Finn is, holding her close and somehow immobilizing her. She can't bring herself to look at him, and she can hear her heart pound in her ears.

"Don't tell me that you're sorry," she tells him, pulling her wrist away from him. "Don't you dare tell me that you're sorry. You promised me that you wouldn't tell anyone anything, and you published it in the freaking paper about me?" Her voice catches on a sob and she's finally able to tear away from him, slamming the salt shaker down onto the floor, the metal top clanging against the hardwood floor.

"It was a mistake," he tries to explain to her. "Really, Rach, I don't know what else to tell you. if there's anything I can do, I-"

"No, there's nothing you can do, Finn. Do you know how embarrassed I was? How embarrassed I was to be there with her in the restaurant and have a total stranger come up to us with a paper?" She looks at him and her hands roll into fists, pounding against his chest. "The fact that she needed to find out with the rest of this city isn't fair, Finn, and you know it isn't. I don't know how I'm going to be able to talk to her again, let alone see her. You've ruined everything, really."

Rachel's already told him the story of what had happened in the restaurant; Rachel had been sitting with Shelby and was about to tell her the truth, when someone had approached them with a copy of the morning's paper, open to the page where he had described the relationship between Shelby and Rachel being mother and daughter. Their breakfast date was promptly ended by Shelby saying something along the lines of that she had to leave, Rachel following after her all the way to Finn's apartment.

She grabs her purse and slings it over her shoulder, causing it to spill over the floor. She drops to her knees and he does as well, reaching over to help her.

"Rachel, I-"

"You what, Finn? You want to write another article, for your paper? Because I have a working title for you. It can be a story all about your life. Here, you can even call it 'How I lost my girlfriend in less than ten days and how I'm never going to see her again.' That should just make papers fly off of the stands." She sniffles and begins to cry again, heading towards the door.

Finn feels like his heart is going to fall out of his stomach, his head hot like it's on fire. He never would have guessed that things would turn to total shit so quickly. Rachel's never been so upset, he thinks, or at least he's never seen her so upset. He hasn't even had the time to tell her that her dress is beautiful or that she looks stunning, as always. Everything's silent between the before she leaves, his voice causing her to stop in the door frame.

"I still love you, Rachel."

She turns around, tears welling in her eyes yet again. It's like her tears are never ending, and she doesn't even know exactly when they'll stop.

"Well, I guess that's a good thing then, hmm? At least you know that you love someone enough to release all of their private information to the entire city of New York. Because when I love someone, I do the same thing, Finn." She pauses, collecting herself for a moment before looking at him again. "So I'm glad you love me, Finn. I really am. Maybe it'll make the fact that I could never love you more apparent."

She closes the door and leaves, the sound of the door slamming ringing in Finn's ears. He looks at the ground and he sees something that isn't his on the floor, close to where Rachel had spilled her purse.

It's a cassette tape, small and blue and worn. He picks it up and analyzes it carefully, taking stock of each detail before sliding it into his pocket. He knows this tape all too well. It's Rachel's tape, the tape she's had since the day she was born. It was supposed to be her key to telling Shelby the truth, and now it's just there, lying on the floor of Finn's apartment. Rachel's one opportunity of having a voice in this entire situation is gone, probably never to be hers again – at least, not if he can help it.


	14. Picking Up The Pieces

He's never felt worse about anything in his entire life. This even beats the time he cheated on his math test in high school and his mom found out about it. It beats the time when his girlfriend in high school for three years started cheating on him with some guy she had met at a party. He's sure that no one's ever felt so horrible about anything in their entire lives.

Before he can start cleaning things up, he hears his door open again. His first reaction is to think that it's Rachel, coming back to pick up the cassette she's dropped or something else she's left behind. He doesn't even begin to think that she's back here to forgive him. He's gotten to know her too well and he knows that she can be as stubborn as a horse if she wants to be. It's that same kind of headstrong and forward attitude that made him attracted to her in the first place.

"Shit," he hears from the doorway, a man's voice cutting through the silence in the apartment. It's so quiet, Finn not even playing his normal Journey album that he does when the time comes for him to finally clean his apartment. "What the hell happened here?"

Finn looks over and he's already recognized the voice of the man coming in through the door, now shoving his keys in his pocket and looking around the apartment, careful not to step on anything without breaking it – not that it isn't broken already.

It's his old roommate from college, Noah Puckerman. The outspoken womanizer that he's never really liked all too much, but he likes enough to spend his free time with him. He's like the more douchebag like version of him, having picked up all of the bad habits Finn thought he left behind in college. Puck's the guy that has a different girl each week and goes out knowing that he's going to get laid. Part of Finn wishes that he could exude confidence like Puck does and just walk up to any girl and get her to sleep with him with just a wink. Especially now. He feels horrible now.

Finn just gives Puck a look, causing him to roll his eyes.

"This is what your girlfriend did?" He notices the pillows strewn across the floor, his bookshelf practically empty now that all of the books are on the floor, thrown across the room.

Finn swallows nervously as Puck steps into the room, sighing deeply before turning to look at him. He hates the word 'girlfriend' now. Just hearing it now feels like a knife twisting in his chest.

"Not my girlfriend," he reminds Puck, standing up from the floor and throwing a pillow back onto his couch. "I m-mean, she used to be, but now she's not, okay?" He hasn't realized how angry he is about everything until now. The normally cool-under-pressure Finn Hudson is no more, and now he's angry. He's angry at Rachel, he's angry at his job – but more than anything, he's angry at himself.

Puck walks further into the apartment and starts picking up the books strewn across the floor. He never expected Finn to be a reader, but judging by all of the books on his apartment floor, he must be. Either that or he bought them just for show.

"She's not anymore? But I thought you said you had a girlfriend? I mean, last time I checked Facebook-"

_Shit_, Finn thinks to himself. _I'm going to have to change that now._

"She broke up with me today. Look, I'm not in the mood to talk about it now, okay? Just help me clean this stuff up, okay?"

There's a long beat of silence between them, Puck working on collecting all of the books and placing them back on the shelf while Finn works to clean up the mess made by the salt shaker Rachel had thrown to the ground before leaving. He hadn't noticed or heard the crack made down the middle of it and the pile of salt left by in the middle of the room.

Puck, however, decides to break the silence between the two of them.

"So, why'd she break up with you? Was it something you did, or said, or what?"

Finn doesn't want to answer. He doesn't want to think about Rachel, because each time he does he just pictures her leaving his apartment in tears, her heart torn in two. And the worst part is that it's all his doing. It's not hers, it's not his job's, it's not Shelby's. He feels like he should be inducted into the Worst Boyfriend Hall of Fame, if there is one. And even if there isn't, he'll create one, just so he can be a part of it. He doesn't care how horribly clichéd it sounds. It makes perfect sense in his head.

"It's a long story."

"I don't have to be anywhere soon."

Finn sighs and stands up, leaning against his coffee table. He doesn't want to talk about it, knowing it'll only make him feel horrible. "I wrote an article about her for the paper, and she didn't exactly like how it turned out, that's all."

He's mumbling. Puck knows all too well that he's lying, or at least not telling the entire truth.

"Come on, that's not all you did. Unless she's an idiot, why would she break up with you based only on that?"

"It's a long story-"

"I don't have to be anywhere."

Finn tells him about how he met Rachel, how hard he fell for her upon meeting her. He tells her about how beautiful she is, how he understands her sense of humor and how he thinks she's one of the most level-headed people he's met in a long time. He tells her all about her relationship with her mother, and how she's always wanted to meet her and somehow reunite with her. He tells her about the stupid idea that he had to publish the story about her and her mother in the newspaper and how his editor went through with it, and how the entire city of New York now knows that she's Shelby Corcoran's daughter. He tells him about how Rachel had come over to his apartment, not knowing whether or not she was furious or just upset. He tells him about how Rachel thinks that Shelby never wants to speak to her again, how his article is what humiliates the two of them in a diner that morning. All and all, it's been the most eventful Sunday he's had in a long time.

Puck just looks at him like he's crazy.

"Man, even I know that I'm a douchebag, but that's hitting an all-time low. What made you think about doing something like that?"

Finn doesn't know what words to even begin to start thinking about. All he knows is that he's messed up, and he's messed up more than he ever has in his entire life. The article's selling well – it's the best the Arts section has done for the Journal in quite some time. But that doesn't mean Rachel's faring any better because of it. He doesn't want to begin thinking about how horrible she's doing. He doesn't want to think about her crying or being upset, because it makes him upset. There's nothing more that he wants in the world than to see Rachel smiling and happy.

"I don't know. I mean, I know it was stupid now, but I thought she was going to tell her mom about all of this earlier, and I just…" He pauses, wiping his face with the hand he isn't using to clean the salt off of the ground with. "I was being stupid, that's all, and she has to pay for it. I just… I don't know what I was thinking."

Puck rolls his eyes a bit at Finn, realizing exactly what he's talking about. He's done plenty of stupid things for as long as he's known him, but he has to agree with his friend when he says that this is the stupidest thing he's done. Puck's supposed to be the asshole when it comes to things like this, not Finn.

"Have you tried calling her?"

"She makes it go straight to voicemail. She hates me, man." Finn pauses, feeling something catch in his throat. "She has every reason to hate me."

Puck sighs as he shelves the last book of Finn's from the floor, walking over to him and standing next to him for a while. He doesn't know exactly how to handle people in situations like this, but it's Finn. He's his best friend, so he has to.

"I think everything's going to work out," he lets him know with a pat on the back. "Until then, we can just try to get her off of your mind, huh? It's Sunday. I'm sure there's some kind of game on."

Finn does as Puck tells him, slowly falling into the idea that maybe he can get on in life without Rachel right there by his side, no matter how many times he's thought about what they would be like in the future together. He's imagined her in a wedding dress and him in a suit, the two of them buying a house together, he's wondered what she would name her first child. Watching the baseball game helps for the most part, but every once and a while, something simple sparks a thought of Rachel in his head. Commercials for florists with big gardenias in the background, Rachel's favorite flower, or one of the ASPCA commercials that comes on that remind him of how badly Rachel wants a puppy someday.

He's in the bathroom when he can hear the commercial for her show playing from the TV, and he does everything he can to keep himself from running out and shutting off the television.

He doesn't want to seem like a girl, anyway.

:.:.:

Santana's been holding Rachel in her arms for what seems like forever. She's lucky she's such a small girl, and that Santana's got arms that rival Michelle Obama's, because otherwise she would just be lying on the couch with Santana sitting at her feet.

It makes her feel maternal, holding Rachel and pinning her hair out of her eyes and telling her that everything's going to be alright. She's lost her regular signature snippy attitude and instead treats Rachel more like an injured bird than someone she's read to defend. Santana's more surprised than upset. From everything Rachel had ever told her about Finn, he seemed like the most perfect person to ever walk into her life. The more she spoke about him, the more Santana liked him, knowing that he was just what Rachel needed. Someone big and tall and strong to protect her from all of the shit people seemed to like to throw at her lately.

Unfortunately, she wasn't expecting Finn to be doing some of the shit throwing.

"He dated me for his story, Santana," Rachel manages to get out through her sobs. Santana tries to silence her, thinking that it's no good for her to try talking. "He dated me and made me sleep with him just so he could write a good article for his crummy paper." Rachel realizes that she's stretching the truth just a bit, but she doesn't care. She might have wanted to sleep with him just as badly as he wanted her to, but she doesn't want to think about it. Finn doesn't matter two cents to her anymore.

Santana tries to quiet Rachel, stroking her hair and pulling her up into her lap even more. "I'm sorry he did that to you, Rach, really, I am. If I could, I would track him down and beat his ass, but I think that this is something that you need to figure out for yourself."

Rachel looks up at Santana, a worried expression painted across her face. "I don't want to," she says, her hands rolling into fists as she feels her blood begin to boil. "I just don't want to have to see him, ever again. I don't want to go to work because I know he knows that's where he can find me, and I just – I don't want to have to do this, Santana." She sighs, wiping tears away from her bloodshot eyes. "It's not fair, you know? How I have to put up with people like Finn who decide to use me for their careers or something. It's just not fair." She begins to cry into Santana's shoulder and her friend shifts around on the couch, looking down at Rachel as she speaks.

"Life isn't fair, Rach. I get it. But you know, you've got something that no one else has, alright? You've got people like me and Quinn who would be more than willing to support you during something like this. And you've got your mom, who I'm sure loves you and wants to talk to you. She's gone practically her entire life wondering where her daughter is, and she's in the same city as she is, Rach. Your mom probably loves you more than you could ever imagine, more than Finn could even if he tried. You've got so many people that love you, Rachel. And if you took the time to realize who they were, your life wouldn't seem like it was such shit."

Rachel's hesitant sobs stop for a moment and she looks up at Santana, eyes wide and wet with tears. She's learned how to listen to Santana's words so that she understand what they mean through all of their snarkiness, knowing that she's a much sweeter girl than she initially seems sometimes. She smiles for what seems like the first time all night, sitting up in Santana's lap and looking at her as she sits on the couch with her.

"Thanks," she tells her as she adjusts her hair and tries to look presentable in front of Santana, realizing that it's not worth it after a while. "I needed someone to tell me that." Santana just smiles and embraces Rachel.

"Well, I'm always going to be the bitch that tells it like it is for you, Girl Scout. It's been that way since school, right?"

"Right."

Santana laughs a bit and Rachel follows suit, watching as Santana stands up from the couch.

"Now, we're going to pick up Quinn and you two are going to solve any shit you have left between you, and we're going out to dinner," she demands, walking towards her bedroom to change her clothes. "You can wear one of my dresses. We'll call it your 'I'm single and ready to fuck' dress."

"I'm not in an argument with Quinn."

Santana peeks out from behind the corner with a smile on her face. "Good," she says, holding the skimpiest dress Rachel thinks she's ever seen out on a hanger. "You can call her, then."

:.:.:

She becomes inundated with phone calls in the next few days. Well, Santana does, but she knows that they're all for her, and she knows what they're about. None are concerning the award she could possibly win or just because she's an interesting person that would make for a good five minutes of a talk show. Instead, they're all requests for her to go on with Shelby and talk about their 'lost relationship' and asking if it should affect their performances in the future. Oprah even wants to interview the two together.

It makes her sick to her stomach that people want her to make money over this news that shouldn't have been released to anyone. She thinks that it's disgusting and wrong, and the fact that she hasn't talked to Shelby about anything yet makes her feel worse.

Rachel doesn't know if she should call her Shelby or Mom yet, no matter how badly she wants to call her Mom. She's her mother, the one she's wanted to know about since she was fourteen. It would only make her feel worse about things if she wasn't allowed to say that she was her own mother. She wants to talk to her again, face to face, just to clear the air of their problem. She doesn't even know if Shelby wants to talk to her, let alone see her. There aren't many ways she can think of that involve her seeing her again without cameras flashing and people trying to talk to them. Like always, she turns to Santana with her questions. And, like always, Santana has the perfect solution.

:.:.:

The three girls wait outside on what's a colder night than usual, arms wrapped over their chests to keep warm. Even as they stand underneath the line that stretches underneath the marquee with the groups of people chattering along with them, they don't stay very warm. Santana mutters the occasional curse as Quinn digs into her purse, fishing out a box of Parliaments and a pink lighter.

"You know, smoking destroys your voice," Rachel reprimands Quinn as she attempts to light the cigarette dangling off of her bottom lip. Quinn puffs a ring of smoke in Rachel's direction and causes the brunette to cough, laughing to herself as she holds the cigarette between her fingers.

"Au contraire, mon frère," Quinn says, beginning to gesticulate with her hand that holds her cigarette. "It gives your voice a certain type of… raspiness, really. I would try one sometime, if I were you." Rachel makes a look like Quinn's just insulted her, the blonde's eyes widening. "No, I'm serious. Lots of singers do it."

"I smoked cigars all through high school," Santana confesses to Rachel with a shrug. "They give you this whole raspy, sexy sound. I mean, I don't see why not." Rachel make a determined face and places her hands on her hips indignantly.

"Well, give me one then," she demands, stomping a foot on the ground like a toddler. "It's not like I won't be able to handle one." Santana and Quinn look at each other and begin to laugh, Quinn puffing from her cigarette a few more times as it burns down.

"Please, Rach. I think you're okay for now. You should have asked the other night when we were at the bar. People smoke like chimneys in there." Quinn smiles and looks down at the smaller girl. Even with her tallest heels on, Rachel's still inches shorter than Santana and Quinn. Rachel rolls her eyes as she looks up at Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest once more. "Besides, we'd hate to go in to the theatre all smelling like old hens. I don't smoke all of the time, I just do it when I'm nervous. It takes the edge off."

Rachel's eyebrows knit together. "Why would you be nervous?"

Quinn finishes off her cigarette and drops it, putting out on the sidewalk by grinding her heel into the ground. "I don't know, I just… I'm nervous for you and your mom, Rach. I've met Shelby before, and I mean, I know you, so I just want the best for you two. I think that guy from the Journal screwed you over, and neither of you two deserve that."

Rachel waits for a moment, looking over at Santana before looking back to Quinn. "Wow, thanks, Quinn. No one's really cared for me like that before." She pauses, her voice catching in her throat. "Except for… Finn, but whatever."

"You need to forget about that prick," Santana assures Rachel with a pat on the back. "Besides, do you even know how hot you look tonight? Being single does wonders for your appearance, Rach." Quinn gives her a nudge in the side and Rachel smiles for what seems like the first time this week. "Let's go now, hmm? I don't want to have shitty seats to your mom's show just because someone couldn't get over her asshole of an ex-boyfriend."

:.:.:

Rachel knows this show backwards and forwards. One of her dreams is to play Eva Peron on Broadway, after all. She sits between Santana and Quinn, more engrossed in the production than either of the two girls. She knows every word to every song, and although she knows each scene and has seen the production before and has watched the movie with Madonna in it over a hundred times, she still glances down at her Playbill from time to time to ensure that she knows when Shelby will come out on stage and start singing the songs she hopes to sing in the same vicinity at some point.

When she finally does perform, she's wonderful, like Rachel expects. It's the same voice she can remember from the cassette that she's had since she was a baby, sounding no different. It's only assurance to make her feel like Shelby really is her mother. She doesn't know whether or not to feel proud that she's her daughter, sitting in the audience and applauding wildly for each note she sings. She's wonderful, she decides. The most wonderful performance in the world.

Intermission comes and the girls begin talking about great it is, Santana joking that Rachel has quite the competition for her Tony when the time comes, but she doesn't care. She just wants to tell her that she's done the greatest job possible if she gets the chance to see her again, which she hopes she does. Quinn tells Rachel that she's going to go outside for a smoke, but returns with a bouquet of roses, handing them to Rachel along with a card.

"They're for your mom," she says, almost proudly. "I mean, I don't know if they'll let us back there, but I thought since you were her daughter, that they couldn't say no to you." Rachel smiles, thanking Quinn. She thinks it'll look nice anyway, her sitting in the audience with a bouquet, like she knows someone in the cast. But she does know someone in the cast, and probably better than anyone else in the audience does. Well, maybe she doesn't know her as well, but she's closer to her. She's her daughter.

:.:.:

"Jesus, Rach, you didn't have to cry throughout the entire second act. I mean, I get that you're emotional and shit, but seriously?" Santana laughs and tips her head back as she finishes off her beer that she's gotten at the cocktail bar in the theatre. The girls are walking around the theatre to the stage door, already noticing the group of people waiting.

"I'm at a volatile moment in my life right now, Santana," Rachel quips, her voice flat. She's still dabbing at her tears with a Kleenex on her way to the stage door, trying to compose herself before seeing the security person waiting for her. "Don't fuck with me."

Quinn and Santana look at each other and laugh, amazed that the word 'fuck' has come out of Rachel's mouth. Rachel laughs along with them as she arrives at the door, flashing the security a smile.

"I'm Rachel Berry, Shelby's daughter," she says, holding her bouquet to her chest. "I'd like it if I could see my mom, please?" The man in black with sunglasses looks at her for a moment, taking her in for what seems like years to Rachel, but in reality is only three seconds.

"Go ahead," he says, opening the door and letting her in. The crowd behind her groans, complaining. Santana rolls her eyes and raises her voice over the group of people clambering to get in.

"Shut up," she says, the noise dimming down. "That's Shelby Corcoran's fucking daughter."

:.:.:

She knocks tentatively on the door before waiting to open it, clutching her flowers nervously in her hands. The roses that Quinn's bought haven't been de-thorned, the small pricks poking her in the hands and causing her to loosen her grip on the flowers.

She can hear Shelby's voice ask her to come in, and she lets the door swing open a bit, poking her head into the room.

"Hey," she says softly, practically unable to hear. "Um, I wanted to make sure to see you before you left the show, and I, um… I got you these." She extends her hands and presents the flowers to Shelby, knowing that she can see her reflection in the mirror. There's a long pause between them, Rachel walking further into the room.

"You know, they want us to do a show together," Shelby says, still not turning around to face Rachel. "I've already gotten an offer to star in _Next To Normal_ as long as you'll do it with me." She stifles a laugh, pulling her hair from the bun it's been tied into for her performance. Rachel knows that stage makeup is supposed to be dramatic; she scrubs it off of her own face practically every night, but seeing it on Shelby now, especially after she's already seen her up on stage is almost shocking. She's stunning, taking Rachel by surprise.

"I g-get the same ones," she stammers nervously, attempting to start a conversation. "Um, listen, S-Shelby, I just wanted to apologize about the other day… that reporter was a jerk, and I had no clue he was going to run anything about… what he did." She walks into the room and rests her hands against the countertop of Shelby's dressing room, the door shut behind her. Rachel hands her the flowers and she smiles sheepishly, the two sharing a glance.

"It's fine," she says, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Whether he was an asshole or not, he still told me something I needed to know, didn't he?" She pauses, standing up from her chair and looks at Rachel. The small brunette looks at Shelby, not sure about what she's talking about. "I've always wanted to find my daughter, and I guess that I did, didn't I?"

Rachel looks down and begins speaking, as if to herself. "But I'm twenty five… there's no use in me being your daughter now.

"I can support you. Isn't that what parents do?"

Rachel fees tears pique at her eyes, and she knows that she doesn't want to cry, because she's already cried so much in the past few days. Besides, she doesn't need Shelby to see her crying one more time.

"I just… I always wondered where my mom was when I was when I was younger. All I had were my dads, and I always wanted to know where my mom was. My dads always told me that you were there, somewhere, but I just… I wanted to meet you, that's all." No matter how hard she tries, Rachel still breaks down and begins to cry, covering her face with her hands. Shelby notices Rachel and catches her in her arms, letting the girl cry into her chest. She doesn't know how to handle her, no matter how hard she tries to pretend. Shelby's never been a mother, no matter how badly she's ever wanted to be.

"It's okay," Shelby says, stroking Rachel's hair and hearing her sobs get quieter. "it's okay, alright? want to get to know you better, alright?" She takes her by the shoulders and turns to her to look into her eyes. "And not just as two people that know each other, alright? We'll go to the nominees dinner and we'll treat each other like mother and daughter, okay? Two adults that have a wonderful relationship with each other. How does that sound?"

Rachel looks at Shelby, a pout and big eyes staring up at her. "Okay," she says, smiling a bit. "I think that would be great." She moves back in to Shelby and she feels her wrap her arms around her, pulling her close and resting her chin on her shoulder. "I'm sorry all of this had to happen the way it did."

"It's fine," Shelby says, sighing deeply and holding Rachel closer. "I needed to find out somehow."


	15. Stubbornness

For being such a stubborn girl, Rachel can't dodge the feeling she gets when she wakes up in her bed, alone. By now she's used to being wrapped up in Finn's arms in some capacity by the time she wakes up, the first second of seeing him reminding her of how she had fallen asleep being so close to him, hearing him respond in a sleepy whisper to all of the constant questions she would bother him with until she had realized that he had fallen asleep, his chin resting against her head. She misses waking up and smelling like his cologne, wearing his dress shirts that nearly reach her knees after she's gotten out of bed, helping him save his eggs that he always comes too close to burning and cracking windows and the door open to wave the smoke out that's caused the alarms to go off.

Rachel's never had a problem with waking up alone – she's done it for most of her life. She convinces herself that it's because she now knows what it feels like to have what she wants, so she wants it more. It's some kind of psychology method or something, isn't it?

She does something all single girls do eventually. The only difference is, most girls wait to realize after five year that they'll always be single and that no one loves them. For Rachel, it's only been about a week before she makes her decision.

She adopts a kitten.

:.:.:

"Cats are like a universal sign that says 'I'm a single loser that needs companionship, so I adopted a pussy because no one would eat my own pussy.'"

Rachel swats at Santana as the two girls sit on the couch together, Rachel holding her newly crowned family member in her lap. She doesn't know what to name it yet, but it's a boy. She certainly isn't going to use the names she's already set aside for the children she's going to have at some point, but she wants it to be a good one. So far no names have caught her eye, but it doesn't seem to bother her. There really isn't a need to call for a cat, anyway.

"Stop," she whines, setting her hand atop the kitten's head. He's a cute cat; a small, calico tabby that's about the size of a loaf of bread. He is awfully adorable, she realizes, especially when she lets him run around her apartment on his own. He crashes into cabinets and falls from countertops as he tries to scale them, causing her to laugh each time she sees it. She almost feels like a mother watching after her rambunctious child, the way she watches over the cat like it's her son. She certainly has taken plenty of pictures since adopting the kitten.

"You're disgusting, San. God, if you didn't work for me, I hope you know that you would be fired."

Santana rolls her eyes and sighs, a devious look showing in her eyes. "Don't act like he never did that for you, Rach. I'm sure Finn loved getting all up in your snatch more than a couple of times."

"Stop," Rachel interrupts, already knowing what's going to come next out of her friend's mouth. She's known her long enough that she's able to understand what words Santana's more likely to use than the ones she's not – and generally, polite words that both of the girls used in elementary school don't flood Santana's vocabulary often. "For as much of a jerk as he was, he was still a gentleman when we were seeing each other," Rachel tries to explain. Santana seems to have her mind made up about what happened when they were together.

"Please. You guys fucked like two rabbits around Easter time. Every time I would see you, you'd be wearing one of his shirts or smelled like his cologne or some kind of obvious shit. Believe me, Rachel. I know what the walk of shame looks like, and you do it well."

Rachel feels herself begin to blush, looking down into her lap and not saying anything. Santana knows by now that when Rachel doesn't choose to argue anything in return, that she's telling the truth about something. "Finn was always-"

"Shut up," Santana says teasingly, swatting Rachel with a pillow and doing her best to avoid the cat. "I'm sure he… 'took you out to eat' more than a couple of times." She adds in air quotes where necessary, causing Rachel to laugh to herself.

"A lady never kisses and tells, Santana. You know that." She knows that her laughs have said it all already, though. She won't tell Santana about what happened in the bathroom of Sardi's that one afternoon, namely because Rachel knows that she's better than that. Besides, she knows that Santana's mind has wandered far past the point of what actually happened. She's not worth explaining things to anymore. It's almost comical, really. For once, she gets to be the one that makes Santana question her love life, instead of the other way around.

:.:.:

She looks absolutely stunning. Not just beautiful, but stunning. And the best part is, she knows it. Thanks to Santana and Quinn, Rachel's embraced the idea of dressing better now that she's single. It's not like she's looking for someone else now that she's broken up with Finn – she's not. She's perfectly happy without Finn in her life, she tells herself every morning when she looks in the mirror. She just dresses in the way that she does now because it's like her own way to show Finn what he's missing out on. That's what Santana tells her is the reason behind it, anyway.

Santana's loaned her another dress. She fills them as long as she wears the bra that pushes her boobs up on her chest until she looks like Jessica Rabbit, minus the flaming red hair. Her dress is a slink black number that hugs her tightly and makes her look like she should be a Victoria's Secret model. She wears these shoes that send her up a good six inches, making her legs look like they go on for miles. She looks wonderfully skanky and classy all at the same time, making her smile in the floor length mirror in her bedroom.

She wonders if Finn's going to be at the dinner. It is a press conference, after all.

She's going with Quinn, who tells her that everything's going to be fine while they're there. The blonde tells her that she's going to stay by her side the entire time if she sees Finn there, and if he even dares try to talk to her, that she'll throw her champagne in his face or something. Part of Rachel is worried that Quinn's going to act like how Santana would, but then she remembers that Quinn's more of a professional than Santana could ever be, making her feel better about any worry she once had.

Rachel really likes the relationship she's built between her and Quinn. She doesn't know if it's due to her break-up with Finn or not, but it seems like one of the few friendships she has in her life that she can actually enjoy. Growing up, Rachel never really had any friends, and now she's got Quinn, and Santana… and Brittany, sometimes, but only when Santana isn't busy flirting with her when she stops in before shows. Nevertheless, there isn't a better time for her to befriend Quinn – or anyone, for that matter.

:.:.:

Shelby finds Rachel after arriving, seeing the normally short girl skyrocketing up into the heights of the rest of the people there. The closer she gets to her, however, the sooner she sees that Rachel's doing her best to choke back her tears. She moves in and smiles at the person she's talking to, escorting Rachel off to the side underneath her arm.

"Are you okay?" Shelby asks, setting her champagne flute down on a nearby table. Rachel sighs and looks at her mother, laughing to herself a bit.

"I'm fine," she says tentatively, running a hand through her hair. She's frustrated; the glitzy cocktail ring she wears for the night catching in a lock of her teased hair. "I'm f-fine, I just… I just don't want to be here right now, that's all. I've had a long week, and I-"

Shelby smiles sweetly and opens her arms to embrace Rachel, feeling her rest her head against her chest. In any other situation, they wouldn't be so public about the new found relationship they've discovered. But everyone in the room already knows about what's happened between the two of them – hell, the whole city knows. Regardless, Rachel wraps her arms around Shelby and hugs her tighter than she's ever hugged anyone before, not even her dads. She doesn't know how her relationship with her mother ever ended up working out in the way it did, but somehow, everything's come out in the wash. Why Shelby would ever want to have a relationship with her technical bastard of a daughter surprises her beyond belief.

"I think you're going to be alright," Shelby says into Rachel's ear, a hand rubbing her back as she holds her close. Rachel isn't crying, not even close. She doesn't know if it's because she's run out of tears or if because she just doesn't have to. Having to decide is too hard by now. "You're a strong girl, Rachel. I think that you can handle whatever life throws at you." Rachel sighs and squeezes Shelby tighter than before, resting her chin on her shoulder. She likes how her hair smells sweet and she doesn't seem to want to let go of her.

"Besides, you're my daughter, aren't you? Any girl of mine is going to be as determined and stubborn as I am." Rachel giggles and begins to recompose herself, falling from Shelby's arms. Rachel sighs and pulls herself away from Shelby, her mother looking at her as she holds her by the arms, rubbing them gently. "You're going to be perfect," she tells her confidently. "You're the closest thing to perfect in this room, okay? Don't forget that."

Rachel smiles as she looks at Shelby, feeling herself blush a bit. "Thanks," she manages in a whisper, feeling Shelby pat her on the shoulder. The woman standing up on the makeshift stage created in the restaurant clinks her champagne flute with a fork, causing everyone in the restaurant to quiet down before turning to face her.

And then, as everyone turns to face in the same direction, Rachel feels two eyes stare directly into her back. She knows they don't belong to Shelby; she's already walked away from her, disappearing into the crowd somewhere. She can't see Quinn or Brittany anymore, and even though it kills her, she turns her head over her shoulder.

He's standing against a wall, his gaze parting the crowd to see her. Finn's still got his notepad and pencil, but he doesn't look like he's taking notes anymore. Now he's just looking at her, and their eyes catch for a moment, but for what feels like an eternity to Rachel.

Now, she really doesn't know what she's going to do now that she knows he's here.

:.:.:

Since seeing Finn, Rachel's been put on edge. Something as simple as someone accidentally brushing her arm while walking past her makes her feel like she's about to have a heart attack. She and Quinn stand together, Quinn complaining about badly she wants a cigarette.

"I thought you said you only smoke them when you're nervous?" Rachel asks curiously. Quinn rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

"They're cigarettes, Rachel. They're addicting, aren't they?" The two girls giggle to each other for a moment, Rachel's eyes monitoring the room. "He's not going to bother you," Quinn finally interrupts, sighing. "He missed out on you, and he needs to understand that. You can be his one that got away, Rach." She adds the last part with a smile and a light elbow to Rachel's side. "I'm going to go outside for a smoke, alright? We can go out and buy nicotine patches for me tomorrow, alright?" Rachel smiles weakly and watches as Quinn fishes into her purse for a cigarette and her lighter. "I'll be back in a second, alright?"

She almost feels like everything's back to normal until she feels a hand on her shoulder. Rachel spins around, her face looking like someone's ready to attack her.

They aren't, though, and they cause her to melt just by looking at them.

"Hi," the man greets her with a smile worthy of a toothpaste commercial. Rachel feels her cheeks pink slightly and her heart beat a bit faster. Standing before her is a man that's nearly as tall as Finn, only he appears handsomer. He's got a smile that can be seen from miles away, and the way he looks at her makes her feel like she's the only other girl in the room with him. He's got blonde hair instead of brown, and he doesn't have freckles peppering his face like Finn does. He doesn't remind her in the least of her past boyfriend, and it's wonderful.

"I just couldn't resist coming over here and telling the most beautiful girl in the room how stunning she looked tonight," he says coolly. With a flick of the wrist, he produces a business card that he passes to her, somehow taking her hand in his in passing. "Lucas McAuliffe, Broadway producer. I just wanted to congratulate you for what a marvelous job you're doing in _Chicago _right now. I had only heard great things so I had to see it, and you're dazzling, Miss Berry."

_No one's ever called me 'dazzling' before, _Rachel tells herself as she smiles back at him, her chest falling up and down as she laughs. "I'm glad you're such a fan," she tells him, letting her hand linger against his for a bit longer than it should. She feels that same kind of rush she did when she ran to Finn's apartment after Quinn had told her about what Jesse had done to her. That same feeling of wanting retribution, power and guiltless all wrapped up into one emotion.

For never being particularly forward, Rachel's always been a rather decent flirt. She tugs on her hair and bites her lip as she listens to the man continue on about her performance, letting her fingers trace the shape of her collarbone and looking up at him through her eyelashes. It only empowers her more, and she's glad that Quinn is outside. She or Santana would chastise her for her actions.

"So, are you, um, busy tonight, or-" Rachel can feel the hair stand up on the back of her neck as she sees the figure standing behind the latest man she's met. She hasn't been this close to Finn in about two weeks, she thinks. It's not long enough.

"Excuse me," she begins, walking away from him. "I've just realized that I have to go." She pushes past the man like a swinging door, finding her way through the still decently large sea of people in front of the doors to exit. Since Quinn's in the back alley, she won't notice her leave. It's not like anyone else would anyway.

:.:.:

Finn can't believe her. The most stubborn girl he's ever met, and now she's running away from him, straight out of the front door of the restaurant. For as much as he knows that all of this is his fault, he can't help but look at Rachel and wonder why she always has to be so stubborn. If she had been flirting with the man inside the restaurant like she had been tonight two weeks ago, he would have been furious. But he can't be upset at anyone now. She's not his anymore, and it's all his fault.

Upon leaving the restaurant, all it takes is for Finn to make one turn of his head to see her, leaning against the brick wall of the building and catching her breath. Her makeup almost seems to run down her cheeks, and he can tell that she's been crying.

"Rach," he calls, running up to her.

She looks at him, disgusted. "God, what? Do you want another picture? For your paper?" She reverts back to crying, attempting to walk away from him.

"Rachel, I'm sorry," he begins, his voice a bit strained. "Believe me, I-"

"Please. You used me to get ahead in your career."

Her words are more cutting than he would have expected. Finn's played out how he's wanted to sort things out with Rachel for a while now, but she doesn't seem to want any part of it. "Rachel, I screwed up, okay? I get it. Just please, would you listen to me?"

Rachel bites down on her lip until it begins to hurt, looking at Finn and being unable to see him through her tears. "No," she protests, as if to herself at first. "How do you think it felt for me, Finn? To have my personal life spread across the cover of the New York Journal for the entire city to see?" Her breath hitches on a sob and she whimpers a bit, tipping her head up in the air and looking into the sky. "I loved you and you didn't care, and that's what makes me upset. So just please, please don't pretend like you give a shit, okay? Because clearly, you don't." She turns and begins to walk away, frustrating Finn.

"Rachel, I – _look_," he says, running up to her and grabbing her by the arm. She spins around and looks at him with a look of terror almost stuck to her face. She looks at him, confused, and he can't find the words that he wants to tell her. The look on her face and how she's treating him make him feel like he doesn't know how to speak anymore.

He takes her by the wrists and pulls himself into her, kissing her. At first, he feels disgusting; kissing a girl that isn't kissing him back and is almost fighting to pull away from him, her hands writing in his wrists and her feet trying to move underneath her. But then everything changes, and he feels her kiss him back. She's reluctant at first, but she kisses him how she used to, the feeling of his lips against hers reminding her of them two weeks ago. For a moment, she feels the happiest that she has in a long time, and she wants to kiss Finn again and again and again.

Finn pulls away from her and looks Rachel in the eye, letting go of her wrists. She looks back at him, standing back away and attempting to fix her smudged lipstick.

"I love you, Rachel," he tells her, beginning to walk away. "I love you more than anyone or anything in the entire world, and all I want is for you to know that. I came here tonight knowing you would do fine, and you did. You're perfect, Rachel. I don't know how I could be in love with anyone else."

And with that he walks away, turning the corner and leaving Rachel standing in front of the restaurant alone.

From the back alley, Quinn turns a corner, puffing on the end of her cigarette. "Rach," she says, surprised to see the brunette standing outside. By the looks of her, she's been crying. "Shit, are you okay?"

Rachel just nods, her face expressionless. "I'm fine," she says, almost in shock. "I just… I just have a lot of thinking to do."


	16. Falling In Love With Love

"I want you to write an article about this," Sue tells Finn. She throws a manila folder full of papers on his desk, causing him to jump a bit in his chair. He's still stuck in his rut from the night before, not wanting to have much to do with anything. He's even gone so far as to shut the blinds to the window he normally uses to stare out of when he gets bored or can't come to an idea. The less of Rachel he sees, the better.

Finn inspects the folder crashed onto his desk, fingers brushing across the papers. "This is for the commitments column," he says, confused. "I don't write for the commitments column."

"You do now," his editor tells him sternly. "Jason's got the flu this week, so I've got you covered commitments. Unless you'd rather write obituaries-"

"Commitments are fine," Finn stammers quickly, realizing that he has it better than he thinks he does. True, writing about weddings and the true love of couples may not be the best thing to swell on while the only thing on his mind is Rachel, but part of him thinks it'll be like medicine. Forgetting about Rachel can probably be easier than he makes it out to be, Finn thinks. Besides, she's just a girl. She's just a girl that he can get over and not have to worry about for the rest of his life.

His mind goes back to kissing her at the dinner, when she was crying and upset and distraught. She can remember what she feels like in his arms, how her lips feel against his, the feeling he hasn't been able to have for weeks. He can't help but wonder if, by chance, she's moved on to someone else. Some guy that she's either met through her job or somewhere else that can handle her for everything that she is a whole lot better than he can.

_She' a handful,_ he thinks, staring down at the papers stuffed into the folder before him. _But she's my handful._

"Don't plan anything this weekend," Sue begins to tell him as she walks away from Finn's cubicle. "You've got a wedding to go to."

An audible groan escapes Finn's lips, tipping back in his chair a bit. He doesn't want to go to a wedding. All he'll be able to think about is how great Rachel Berry is. The most wonderful girl in the world to accompany him to such an affair, and he knows she'll have no part in it.

:.:.:

"Maybe this goes down in history as your first real decision to make," Santana tells her, stirring her ankle as she sits on Rachel's couch, arms crossed over her chest. She does a much better job at playing the relaxed card than Rachel does. The short brunette paces around her apartment, her kitten in hand. He still goes unnamed.

"Do you love him, Rach?" The words echo in her ears like Santana's just struck a gong, the note ringing through until it dissipates into nothing. She can't bear to ask herself the same question, because she already knows what the answer is going to be.

She loves Finn Hudson. She loves him more than the sun, the moon, the stars. She loves him even more than her own stars, the small gold ones she presses to everything she signs her name on. In her mind, Finn is her gold star; the one thing she can always look to in a time of need. The rose tinted glasses that she wears somehow make her see past his mistake. The mistake that angers her and makes her feel like she's about to explode each time she thinks of it.

_Is it wrong,_ she wonders, _to feel this way about someone? After he betrayed me and seemed to only want to use me to get ahead in his career?_ Some days, there's nothing she wants more than to have Finn waiting for her so she can run into his arms, getting caught up in how lovely it feels to be held and kissed by someone who you know loves you so much that they'll do anything for you. She's found the love of a friend in Quinn and the love of a mother in Shelby – all that's missing is the love she wants the most. She wants Finn to love her.

"I do," she responds, her voice quiet at first. "I love how he wakes up early in the morning and makes me breakfast without waking me up, and I love how when I fall asleep, he scoops me up into his arms and I just stay there, feeling him wrapped around me and holding me close to his chest. I love how he tells me that he can hear my heart beat when I'm nervous, and I love how he kisses my forehead because he's too tall sometimes to reach down to kiss my lips. I love him, Santana. I love him more than anyone else in the entire world."

Santana can't help but smile slightly at Rachel, seeing her freeze in front of her with her cat in her arms, talking about how much she loves Finn. She's happy, no matter how horrible writing about Rachel in the paper without her permission was. Anyone who makes Rachel this happy can't be a horrible person.

"You need to find him," Santana tells her, standing up from the couch. "I don't care what it takes, or if we have to turn this city upside down looking for him, but we're going to find him. Finn Hudson is your knight in shining armor, Rachel. You were made for him and he was made for you."

Rachel doesn't think about the article in the paper anymore – and even if she does, she doesn't weigh it against her feelings for Finn. She can't out how much she loves him into words – she just knows that he's perfect and wonderful and that she loves him, and that's it.

"Do you have his phone number?" Rachel would reach for her own phone and call him herself, but she deleted his number in a haste attack after reading the paper.

Santana fishes her phone out of her purse with a grin stuck to her face. "I have the number of every publicist and reporter in this city," she boasts. "We're going to find him, Rach."

:.:.:

Days go on and before he knows it, he's at the wedding he's supposed to cover. Weddings have never really interested Finn, except for the one short time in his life that they did.

"_And I want to wear a white dress, with a big bouquet of white gardenias as I make my way down the aisle… wouldn't that be gorgeous?" Finn just laughed and held Rachel closer to him as she kissed him. _

"_You'd look perfect in whatever you wore," he told her, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "You never need to worry about that, Rach. You're perfect in every single way." She smiled and began to laugh, finding a space in his arms small enough for her to fit. _

"_I think about it, you know," she told him, her voice soft._

"_What?"_

"_About us. And how much I love you. And how I never, ever want us to be apart."_

_Words that would terrify most men made Finn smile from ear to ear. Knowing that he could spend the rest of his life with Rachel somehow made everything seem alright._

The bride looks stunning, her ladies in waiting and the flower girl looking equally beautiful. The groomsmen line the sides of the makeshift chapel set up outdoors, the rest of the wedding party beaming with what only seems like pure love and joy for the couple beginning their new adventure together and husband and wife.

He does notice one thing that stands out, however, one thing that he never would have expected. At the head of the altar is the groom, standing next to his best man with the biggest, most genuine look of pure bliss and nervousness stuck to his face all at once. He can't help but imagine himself in the same position, staring down the aisle to see his veiled bride walking towards him, the smile on her face contagious and making him feel like butterflies were eating away at his stomach.

He doesn't have to think twice about who the bride would be. After all, Rachel does look marvelous in white.

:.:.:

Rachel and Santana sit together in the back of a taxi, Santana running things over with the girl one last time.

"You need to get him, Rach. You're perfect for each other. It's now or never, so… now, right?"

Rachel begins to nod nervously, if almost to herself. She can't think of anything else that feels so right in this moment in time. Santana's taken care of knowing where Finn is and what he's doing, and she does feel like it's a bit daunting to be finding him at a wedding reception, but the more she thinks about it, the less she cares. If she loves him, she loves him – and that's it.

She's doesn't look particularly nice, and has instead reverted back to the clothes she wears nearly every day, the ones Finn tells her that he loves and she looks lovely in. Her dress is white with pink and yellow flowers scattered around it, her hair sitting pleasantly around her face. She looks like how she did in high school, not like how she does when Santana tries to dress her up for a dinner party or a night at the bar. More importantly, she feels better about how she looks, and she knows Finn would want the same thing.

The taxi drops her off at the doors of the reception, causing her to charge in to the reception hall without a hitch. She doesn't care about the people there or the others around her. All she wants is to be with Finn again, and that's it.

It doesn't take long for her to be recognized by a party goer – the bride, of all people. The two share a conversation for what seems like hours, the girl in the wedding dress ultimately devising a plan to have Rachel talk to Finn. Well, that, and the fact that she wants the girl who's face plastered the paper the past week on the stage at her wedding.

:.:.:

Microphone feedback fills the ballroom, Rachel surprised that she doesn't know how to use the thing. Something that comes as second nature to her on stage doesn't seem to translate over to when she's terrified about speaking to someone she isn't even sure will accept her anymore.

"H-hi," she stammers, looking out into the crowd of people staring at her in an attempt to find Finn somewhere, anywhere. "U-um, I was just looking for a Finn Hudson-"

The crowd seems to part like the Red Sea, Finn ending up directly in Rachel's eye line. She sighs deeply as she sees him, noticing how he stares at her. The crowd of people at the reception quiet down, like they're about to watch a movie unfurl before their eyes. Rachel feels like her heart is going to explode.

"Finn, um, I just… I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry," she begins, wringing her hands at her waist. "You were right, I just didn't want to hear any of it. And I know that you feel bad about what you did, but I just… I just want to let you know that I forgive you, for everything. I love you so much, and nothing could change that, not a crummy article in a newspaper or a disagreement between the two of us, because I just _love _you-" she pauses, gasping a bit as her voice catches on a sob. "And all I ever want to do for the rest of my life is love you."

Finn looks up at her on the small stage, feeling his throat close a bit as he stares at her. She's so beautiful; from the way she looks to the way she has with words, fitting them all together to sound so much more beautiful than he ever could. The reception hall is so quiet you can hear a pin drop, everyone watching Rachel as she looks down from the stage to Finn, her eyes glistening with tears as she tries to compose herself. Finn walks towards the front of the stage, the crowd parting and leaving room behind him so he can be alone, and he feels like he's in the middle of a movie.

Rachel looks down at him and smiles through her tears, seeing him look up at her.

"You mean it?" He asks, his voice sounding like a dream to her ears.

"Every word."

Finn smiles and he can't look away from Rachel for a moment, moving his hand up to motion to her. "Come here," he says, extending his hand so she can take it. She grabs him by the hand and somehow pounces into his arms, Finn holding her and supporting her as she wraps her arms over his shoulders, attacking him with kisses. The silence in the reception hall breaks and the crowd begins to applaud, but neither of the two care. To Finn and Rachel, they're in their own world, lost in each other's eyes.


	17. A Kiss For The Winner

She's never walked down a red carpet before. It makes her feel like a movie star; having to walk down a long red carpet with cameras flashing and reporters calling her name from behind the velvet rope that keeps the two of them separated.

She only feels more like a movie star when she turns to her side and she's reminded that she's being accompanied by Finn. He holds her by the arm and she smiles, realizing that he's there for her. He's not her friend or her companion for the evening like Santana would be. He's her boyfriend, and he loves her more than anything else in the entire world.

Finn doesn't hold his smile perpetually like Rachel does when the reporters take her picture. He looks down at her and squeezes her hand, beginning to whisper in her ear.

"You look like Marilyn Monroe," he tells her softly, eliciting a giggle from her. She doesn't _really _look like Marilyn Monroe; finally having decided on a flowing, marigold dress that makes her look like some kind of Greek goddess. Her hair's been curled and is placed into a messy bun on the side of her head, and she's wearing those same black shoes he loves that make her legs look like they're never ending, even if her dress doesn't reach her knees like they normally do.

"I do not," she protests, her smile finally going away. She swats at his arm and Finn smiles, tugging her along as he makes his way closer to the doors of the theatre. She giggles and holds him tighter by the hand, nearly walking into him as she talks to him.

"I love you," she tells him, tipping her head up so that she can see him. Finn smiles and brings her closer to him, the two of them stopping in the middle of the carpet.

"I already knew that," he tells her, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. She giggles and kisses him, still having to stand on her toes to reach his lips. The crowd in front of them goes wild, and Rachel just laughs, going back in to kiss him again.

:.:.:

She's crying from the moment they say her name. She's imagined this moment so many times before that it doesn't seem real anymore; sitting in a chair in Radio City Music Hall and having someone announce her name in front of millions of people, letting them know that she's won this prestigious award. Santana sits behind her along with Quinn, the two girls laughing and smiling and congratulating Rachel as best as they can before she falls out of her chair.

Finn sits next to her, smiling and not wanting to let go of her hand as she stands. He loves her more than anything else in the world right now. He loves her for everything that she's ever done. She's done it. _They've _done it.

Rachel does her best to get through her acceptance speech without weeping. She holds her trophy tightly to her chest and she thinks of Finn, and how much she loves him. He's the last one she thanks in her long, prepared list of people to thank, but she thanks him. She loves him more than anyone else.

:.:.:

"Congratulations, Smurfette," Santana tells her afterwards, bringing her in for a hug. "I never thought you could do it back in high school, but I guess you can." The two girls laughed at Santana's joke and embraced, Rachel still clutching tightly to her award.

"You're a Tony-winning actress now," Quinn tells her sweetly. "You'll be making so much more money now…" Her voice trails off, beginning to giggle as Rachel looks to her and brings her in for a hug as well. Quinn smiles and holds Rachel tightly to her chest, her arm wrapped around her waist. "Your boyfriend's waiting for you outside. He said that he had a surprise for you."

Rachel pulls away from Quinn, looking out the window of the restaurant she's standing in.

There's Finn, waving to her with a bouquet of pink tulips in hand. His smile is the biggest she's ever seen it, and she smiles back to him with a small wave. She picks up the skirts of her dress and charges towards him, pushing the door open and running up to him. He catches her in his arms and she giggles, attacking him with kisses once more. It doesn't take Finn long to realize that he could get used to having Rachel run into his arms. Each time she does it, he gets to have her kiss him over and over again.

:.:.:

Finn never would have guessed that one of the fancy dresses that all of the celebrities wear would be so hard to get off. He has Rachel pressed up against the wall of her bedroom, his hands not knowing where to begin when it comes to taking her dress off. She can't stop kissing him, her hands roving his chest and holding him close to her. She begins to laugh as she feels him having a hard time undoing her dress and she begins to help him herself, undoing the sash tied around her waist and loosening her dress.

Finn laughs and Rachel does the same, his hands pushing down on the straps that are over her shoulders. "You're so hot," he whispers in her ear, and she giggles, tipping her head back against the wall to give him access to her neck. She's glad she doesn't live in her old apartment in one of the alphabet cities in New York anymore; the walls not being so paper thin and her neighbors not coming to her in the morning or calling her telling her to keep it down.

Not that she ever made that much noise when she was with Jesse. She's worried that she's going to lose her voice some nights when she's with Finn. Rachel never would have guessed that she was a screamer.

Finn sweeps her up from her feet and carries her over to her bed, throwing her down on top of it. She bounces off the mattress a bit and begins to laugh, watching him as he begins to undo the tie hanging around his neck.

"No," she states, getting up on her knees and scrambling towards the edge of the bed for him. "Let me take it off." She bites down on her lip and she gives him the look that she knows makes him go weak at the knees, looking up at him through her eyelashes and resting her free hand against his chest as her skilled hand works at his tie, undoing it and grabbing it by either side, using it to pull him closer to her so she can kiss him. Her lips feel like heaven; Finn able to taste traces of her champagne from earlier and strawberry lip gloss that she had put on before they left.

He doesn't understand how the girl he met at a restaurant around a month ago can go from being such a polite and demure girl in public, but turns into something else behind closed doors. He had always been told in high school and in college that girls who were ladies on the street were something else entirely in the bedroom, but he never believed them. Now that he was with Rachel, he saw everything in a brand new light.

Rachel grabs him by the shoulders but doesn't pull him onto the bed yet, causing him to ache all over. All he wants is to touch her and to hold her again, getting back to everything about her that he's missed while they were gone. She licks her lips and rests her hands against his chest, her eyes wider than he's ever seen them before.

"I love you so much," she tells him, moving one hand up to his head and running her fingers through his hair while the other still runs across his chest, fingers skimming over the buttons of his shirt and nails scraping against skin through the fabric. He wants her to tear his shirt open so badly, just so he can feel her hands against his skin. "You're so perfect, and I never want to lose you… ever again, alright? I don't care what happens between us anymore. I'll always love you." She leans in to kiss him, her sincerity causing his heart to beat a million times a minute and his head to feel like he's swimming. No one's ever told him that they love him as much as Rachel does – well, his mom does, but she doesn't count. Rachel treats him like he's some kind of god, and he loves her for it. He could make a list that would wrap around the world and back listening all of the things that he loves about her.

She pulls out of their kiss and looks at him deviously, biting down on her lip and her eyes twinkling in the dim light leaking into the room from the hall. "And because of that, I'm going to show you how much I love you." Rachel lets her hand fall past Finn's belt and takes hold of his length, stroking him through his pants. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Finn just looks at her, wide-eyed and in shock. If he wasn't hard before, he definitely is now.

"I love you so fucking much," Finn grumbles, taking Rachel by the back of the head and pulling her closer for a kiss. She gasps before her lips reach his, tackling his tongue with hers and melting into him. Finn finds the zipper on the side of her dress and tugs at it, Rachel shrugging out of the straps of her dress and pulling the bodice down around her waist. In the blink of an eye, she's kneeling before him in nothing but her underwear; a lacy black piece he can remember her wearing at least once more. Her hair falls over her shoulders and down her back now; not bothering to cut it anymore. Finn's seemed to like her more with long hair, anyway.

He nearly attacks her as he pushes her back down onto the bed, one hand taking her breast and the other grabbing her thigh, squeezing it gently and eliciting a moan from her lips. He kisses her all the while, his lips traveling from her lips to her jaw to her neck, leaving a sizeable mark just south of her jaw. He pauses before his lips reach her chest and looks back up at her with a smile on his face, Rachel laughing until she feels his lips, hot against her chest, squealing in delight. He nearly assaults her with his mouth, kissing her breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipples.

"God, Finn, that feels so good…" she murmurs, eyes falling shut and her hands falling against his back. She loves how he knows exactly what to do to make her feel like she's the most important girl in the entire world, and how she knows that he means it. There's nothing she wants more than to be with Finn. She would sell her apartment to be with him.

Finn looks at her with a smile, studying her face before craning up to kiss her lips again. "I think I should show you how much I love you," he protests, smiling deviously like Rachel had been earlier. "You're the winner tonight, anyway. I think the winner of such a prestigious award deserves a prize." Rachel gasps a little, puckering her lips to kiss Finn back but falls short when he moves his head down as his hands drag against her stomach. "Besides, you seemed to love it so much when I did it for you at your luncheon," he tells her, hands against her thighs and his face between her legs. Rachel's eyes nearly roll into the back of her head, knowing what Finn has in mind. She brings her hands up over her head, fingers curling in her hair that's fanned out around her head.

He pushes his fingers past the fabric of her panties, realizing for the first time how ready she is for him. He doesn't know how it's possible to be such a perfect human being. Rachel has to be the sweetest, most honest, sexiest girl he's ever met. He can't understand how he's gotten lucky enough to call her his. His fingers loop around the lace covered elastic at her hips and tugs it down around her thighs, Rachel bringing her legs up in the air for him to take them off. She has the best legs in the world, he realizes as he takes them off of her, kissing the back of her calves while she has them in the air. Rachel giggles and sets her feet back down on the bed, spreading her legs open for Finn. She waits and doesn't understand what's taking so long, until she feels Finn's tongue against her. Her head tips back against the pillows of her bed, moaning and trying her best to keep quiet, because she knows that the louder she gets, the more Finn will push to try and get her to the edge.

"Mmmmm, Finn, don't stop…" she moans, her hands reaching for her bed sheets and twisting them in her fingers. Her words only push him to please her more, running his tongue from top to bottom, nipping and sucking in all of the right places. Rachel's moans grew louder by the second, and Finn wasn't such what was more of a turn-on; the sweet and tangy taste that he could remember from the restaurant bathroom against his lips again, or the sounds escaping her mouth the more he worked to please her.

Rachel can't contain herself anymore as she feels his lips vibrate against her clit, pulling his head away from her legs. "Finn," she breathes, her words husky and ragged. "I need you. _All _of you." Finn looks up at her and smiles, leaning up on top of her as kissing her lips. The taste of her against his lips and now on hers turns her on even more than before, making Rachel want Finn's pants off now more than ever. She quickly flips herself on top of him, spreading her legs over his hips and resting her hands against his chest.

Finn's eyes look like they're going to explode the more he watches her, and he's so hard it hurts just to think about what Rachel wants him to do to her.

"You looked so nice tonight," she tells him, her hair falling around her face as she looks down at him. Her voice is low and smoky, like she's telling him a secret. "I think you'll look even better with me riding your cock, don't you?" He feels like his heart has stopped and that he's going to have to go to the hospital. How Rachel manages to switch between being so horrible dirty and the patron saint she wants to be at times will always astound him, he decides. Her hands work to undo his belt and she helps him, holding the belt in her hands as he shucks himself of his pants.

She begins to say something about how he can hit her with his belt the next time they do this, but he shuts her up. He can't handle anything else like that coming out of her mouth, or he'll lose it right there in his boxers.

Rachel works to pull his boxers down and he kicks them off, causing her to remount him once more. She adjusts herself so she's down over his hips, and before he knows it she's got her hands planted against his chest, riding him into oblivion. Finn sits up a bit on the bed, holding Rachel by the waist and looking up at her in awe.

"God, baby, you're so hot…" Finn begins, gripping her tighter, his fingers leaving some kind of mark on her skin, he's sure. He can't help it, though, when she's sitting on his lap and riding him like she knows exactly what she's doing, her hair thrown back in a wild abandon behind her and her boobs bouncing in front of his face. He's got the hottest girlfriend in the entire world.

Rachel giggles a bit, moaning to his touch. "I l-love it when you call me baby," she cries, her voice muffled and hurried. She drags her nails across his chest and bites down on her lip, looking into Finn's eyes. She can't begin to explain her feelings for him, no matter what words she tries to use. Even going into the dictionary wouldn't help. She loves him more than words can even begin to explain.

Finn feels like he's about to explode just by looking at Rachel, and he looks into her eyes as she looks into his, knowing that he's not going to last as long as he wants to for her. He never has, now that he thinks of it. He can try to think of whatever he wants, but he can never make his train of thought head anywhere else, always falling back to the image of his girlfriend in front of him, loving him more than anyone else could.

"Rach, I can't-"

Rachel looks at him with a smile and catches her breath, hopping out of his lap and scrambling down to the floor, falling to her knees. She rests her hands on her knees and Finn somehow knows what she wants, palming himself before moving to sit over on the edge of the bed, Rachel's hands taking over and her mouth wrapping around him.

"God, Rach, I can't… you feel so… _amazing_," he grunts, immediately regretting his word choice. He knows she's going to get on him for it later, but she looks so dedicated and the way she looks up at him and stares into his eyes – Finn's never been more grateful for Rachel's lack of a gag reflex before in his life.

"Sing for me, baby," he sighs, and Rachel makes this face that makes his knees buckle. He doesn't truly feel like he's about to lose it, however, until she starts humming, the vibrations from her lips sending chills down his spine. His face twists into the familiar puckered face he always makes right before he loses it, and finally he does, Rachel not looking the slightest bit fazed. She pulls him out of her mouth with an audible pop, swallowing what's left of him and wiping her mouth off daintily. Finn nearly collapses on the bed and Rachel licks her fingers clean, giggling as she climbs back on the bed with him. By now he's underneath the sheets, her following along with him and landing in his arms.

"Jesus Christ, Rachel, that was…"

"Amazing," she interrupts, laughing to herself. "I thought you weren't going to use that anymore?"

"I can't help it," Finn breathes, still gathering himself from their latest adventure. "You're amazing, Rach. The closest thing to amazing, anyway."

She giggles softly and burrows herself even tighter into his arms, Finn kissing her hair. "So I amaze you then, don't I?" Finn scoffs incredulously and holds Rachel to his chest as tight as he can without breaking her.

"You always amaze me," he tells her, resting his chin on top of her head. "I don't think you'll ever stop amazing me." Rachel giggles and rests her head against his chest, letting her eyes fall shut. She could stay this way forever, having Finn hold her and stay in bed with her until she died. She wants to be with him forever, she realizes, right then and there. She's meant to be with Finn no matter what.

Her thoughts of wedded bliss, however, are interrupted by a scratch at her bedroom door, followed by a small squeak. She can feel Finn move his head from hers, looking at the doorway.

"Since when do you have a cat?" He asks, looking down at Rachel. The brunette just laughs and turns over in bed to see her kitten standing in the doorway, slowly pacing into her room and ended up on the bed, curling into a ball at the end of it.

"Since last week," she confesses, looking back at Finn. "He doesn't have a name yet, though. I haven't thought of any good ones."

Finn holds Rachel close to him as the two watch the cat sleep peacefully on the foot of the bed. "Well, what's a name that you love?"

"Finn," she tells him truthfully. "Finn Hudson."

Finn laughs and pushes Rachel's hair out of her eyes, kissing her nose. "You can't name him Finn," he tells her, laughing. There's a pause between the two of them, Finn finally turning to Rachel with an idea. "There is always Finley, though."

Rachel gasps a little and sits up in bed, a smile spread across her face. "Finley's perfect!" She cries, pulling Finn in for an embrace. "He's perfect now, baby. He's just like you."


	18. Epilogue

**This is the final chapter of this fic, and I just wanted to thank everyone for reading/reviewing! I've already started working on my next project, but thanks again for everything. Each review/alert/favorite gives me the muse to write more! I hoped you enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it. :)**

He gets promoted at the Journal. He gets to write for the news column, his articles headlining the paper. It fits in well, because he learns about it the day after Rachel moves in with him. She's sitting in their bedroom and unpacking her clothes with Finley on her lap when Finn bursts into the room, kissing her incessantly while telling her all about his great news.

"That's so great, baby!" She exclaims, moving Finley from her lap and sitting up a bit to embrace her boyfriend. "I always knew you were the greatest writer at that place." She presses a kiss to his lips and returns back to unpacking her box of clothes. "Even Finley's happy for you, baby. He's so happy, he fell asleep." She giggles as she looks over at the cat sleeping on a pillow, looking back at Finn with a smile.

Finn rubs the back of his neck nervously and sits down on the side of the bed next to Rachel. "Are you done unpacking yet?" Rachel makes a face and shakes her head from side to side.

"No," she states, like it's something he should know already. "I just finished unpacking all of my bed sheets, though." Finn takes a moment to examine the bed he's sitting on. Sure enough, the sheets are pink, the comforter a downy white with painted flowers on it. He looks at Rachel with a smirk and winks, grabbing her by the waist and kissing her forehead.

"What do you say we break them in, hmm?" Rachel giggles as he kisses her, falling on her back and pushing her box of clothes to the floor, hitting the ground with a thud.

"I think that's a great idea," she says, hitching her legs up around his waist and pulling him closer. Finn smiles and kisses her back, holding in her in his arms. She's perfect, and he couldn't be happier with her living with him.

:.:.:

Finn's the first person she calls when she gets the news. She's been so excited that she can't see straight when she walks back home, afraid she's going to collapse from her heart beating so fast. She finds Finn the second she opens the door, slamming it behind her in a rush to run into his arms.

Finn looks at Rachel with a smile, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her close. She covers him in kisses, smiling as she looks up at him. "Congratulations, New York's new Maureen Johnson," he tells her, swaying her from side to side. She smiles, looking up at him and adjusting her hair. She's just been asked to be in the latest production of the musical _Rent, _playing the role of Maureen. Ever since she's told him, Finn's been researching the show to find out what it's all about, the only real thing that interests him is knowing that he'll be able to see Rachel make out with some girl in front of everyone, but he knows that he'll find other things about it that will make him proud to say that it's his girlfriend up there, and no one else's.

"I'm so proud of you, Rach," he tells her, turning around to turn his attention back to the stove. Rachel looks over his shoulder upon smelling what he's been doing.

"Are you… cooking?"

Finn just smiles and Rachel walks up next to him, looking over the stove with him.

"Eggplant parmesan. You favorite, right?" Rachel just smiles and stands up on her toes to kiss Finn. She's never been prouder of her boyfriend.

:.:.:

Santana calls her the moment she finds out about Rachel's nomination. Her run in _Rent_ is going marvelously, Finn having gone to multiple showings. He can't explain how proud he is of her, or how marvelous she does each and every night. The second Santana her and Rachel picks up the phone, Finn smiles as she begins to giggle and smile and collapse onto the couch. He already knows exactly what she's talking about, and he couldn't be happier.

Everything since they've moved in together seems to be perfect.

:.:.:

Everything only gets more perfect when Finn decides to propose to Rachel. It's when she takes him back to Ohio to meet her dads. At first it scares him, asking them if he can take their daughter's hand in marriage, but the more he thinks about it, the easier it becomes. He loves Rachel, and he doesn't want anything to get in the way of that.

She takes him to this park that's behind her old high school, and Finn makes her sit underneath a big cherry blossom tree, standing before her and causing her to be confused – confused until he bends down on one knee and presents her with a small, velveteen box. Her hands cover her face and she looks at Finn, tears welling in her eyes. She's never been more positive that Finn's the one for her in her entire life. He's perfect, she's perfect, and they're perfect together.

:.:.:

She wishes that she would have been a bit more careful and conscious the night Finn had proposed to her. If she had, she wouldn't be in the situation that she's in now.

"Just buy one box and get it over with," Santana tells her, leaning against the rack of shampoo with her sunglasses pushed over her eyes. "They're all the same, right?" Rachel shakes her head from side to side and examines another box, scowling a bit,

"So you really are pregnant, huh? Are you sure it's Finn's?" Rachel rolls her eyes and picks up a box, clutching it tightly.

"Of course it's Finn's," Rachel explains, the two girls walking towards the checkout together. "And I don't know if I'm pregnant yet. That's why I'm buying this." She gestures with her box of pregnancy tests, handing the box to the cashier with a trying smile on her face.

"I don't know I could handle a little Rachel running around your apartment," Santana teases with a smile. "Hopefully the kid's just like Finn." Rachel frowns and swats at Santana, the two girls giggling to each other for a moment. "Does he know yet?"

"Know what?"

"Know that you're pregnant, Rach. I mean, if you are, it's his baby too. And you're going to get huge, and you're going to have to put your career on hold, and –"

"Shut up," Rachel finally exclaims, taking the bag from the cashier and pulling her coat on over her shoulders. The more that Santana talks about it, the more worried she becomes. What about her career? She can't play a character that isn't pregnant if she's pregnant. They're twenty six, and she could be expecting a child. Besides, what would her fathers' think? Having a baby at twenty six without being married? Suddenly, the idea of being a mother terrifies her. She doesn't care if Finn's going to be happy or not. She's terrified.

:.:.:

She tells him one night when they're watching a movie, and she's horrified to know what his response is going to be. Maybe telling him now isn't the greatest idea after all.

"I'm pregnant," she announces, a small smile on her face. She keeps it there with the hopes that Finn will smile along with her after digesting the new information that's going to change their lives together forever.

Finn can't feel his hands. He can't feel his arms or his feet or his legs or his arms, and his head is light and unable to process any kind of information. _Rachel can't be pregnant,_ he thinks to himself nervously before remembering the night he proposed to her. They had been so caught up in everything that he hadn't bothered to reach for his wallet to pull out a condom, and Rachel hadn't even said anything to him about it afterward, like it had slipped her mind. He looks at Rachel with shock in his eyes, his heart feeling like it's going to beat out of his chest.

"P-pregnant?" He stammers, the word feeling like something foreign on his lips. "But… we were so careful, Rach-"

"I know," she says, shifting on the couch so that she's facing him. "I was surprised too, but I took a test last night with Santana, and… I'm pregnant."

Finn just now begins to connect the word pregnant to all of the connotations that come with it. Rachel's pregnant. With his baby. She's got a baby growing inside of her with a heart, with fingernails. He thinks back to middle school health class, when he studied about the different stages of pregnancy, and he tries to think of all of the different side effects that come with being pregnant. Rachel's going to get huge and she's going to start waking him up at three in morning so he can buy her Taco Bell, which is weird, because she doesn't eat Taco Bell.

And then he begins to think about what happens after the baby's born, and all of the exciting things that come along with it. Teaching your kid how to ride a bike, and dropping them off on their first day of kindergarten. Watching them take their first steps and taking the trick-or-treating for the first time. He thinks of how great he and Rachel would be as parents; Rachel the doting and maternal mother while he would get to be the fun and relaxed dad, and he gets excited. He and Rachel are going to raise a child together.

"That's so great, baby," he says, his voice going up as he grabs her in his arms, instantly being more mindful of her stomach. He knows that although he can't see the baby yet that it's still there. _His baby_, he thinks, causing him to smile.

Rachel hugs him back and laughs with him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "You aren't angry?" Finn pulls away from her, eyebrows knit together.

"Rach, why would I ever be angry?"

"I don't know," she begins, her voice quiet. "I just thought we wanted to get married before we had children. Now we're just engaged and we don't know when we're going to get married, and I'm going to have stop working, and you're going to have to put in extra hours at the Journal to make more money, and I-"

"Rach," Finn interrupts her before she goes off on a tangent. "We're going to be perfectly fine, okay? You being pregnant, me being promoted… it's all going to work out for the better, alright?" He knows that if she has to stop performing, money's going to be a bit tight, but it won't matter. They'll still have the best family in the world, he thinks. "Besides, we were always going to be parents anyway, right?"

Rachel giggles and rests her head against Finn's chest, sighing. "Right. I'm just worried that it's all happening too soon. We're only twenty six. Isn't that a little young to start a family?"

Finn takes Rachel by the hand and she moves in closer to him, nearly sitting in his lap. "I think that you can start a family when you love each other and you know that you can love that family as much as you love the one you're with." Rachel sighs, looking up and Finn with a smile.

"How did I get so lucky to end up with such a lovely fiancée?"

"I don't know," Finn tells her, ruffling her hair a bit. "Maybe it has to do with the fact that he's got the best girl in the world."

:.:.:

It's nearly a year later, and she's in the exact position she was a year ago. Finn sits by her side, but this time she takes his hand in one of her hands and the other rests on her stomach, inflated more than usual. She's started to show early, the doctor says, which is perfectly normal but somehow makes her happier. She smiles each time she gets to look down and know that her baby is there with her, almost like a constant companion.

A week earlier they had found out that it was a girl. She and Finn are still debating over what to name their baby.

Quinn and Santana still end up sitting behind her, patting her back and whispering words of encouragement into her ear as the person standing up on the stage reads her name off of the card in their hand. She never thought she would be this nervous, but she is. If she wins, she can have a trophy to match the one she won last year. If not, she won't feel like she's lost much.

But, in natural Rachel Berry fashion, she wins. And she's shocked and seems to forget how to stand, Finn having to assist her on her way up. She kisses him and makes her way up to the stage to accept her award, beaming back at him and clutching her award to her chest the entire time.

Somehow, she feels like everything's going to be alright.


End file.
